Looking at my watch, exhausted, I was stunned to see it was only 11 AM.
“They are going to kill me,” I thought.
It was Saturday and I was the sole source of sustenance and, of course, entertainment for our wild boys (Tyler, 5 and Parker, 3). My wife was laid up with a flu and Nanna (Marie’s mother) wouldn’t arrive until 3. So from the time the rug rats stirred at 6:30 until I could tag Nanna into the ring (and this is what it really feels like), I was the show. And they were doing a number on me.
First, there was brushing teeth, with my role ensuring that each got the proper toothbrush and the toothpaste they like best (yes, we have more than one). Then, I was supposed to find the right YouTube video of approximately 2 minutes in length for them to watch while they did the actual brushing.
Then downstairs for breakfast with its dozens of requests and multiple balks at improper food placement on the plate. “You put the syrup on the pancake and I wanted it on the side,” one might tantrum.
Then it’s upstairs (getting them there is the first challenge) to get dressed.
“Can you help me?” Parker asks.
“Why? You know how to get dressed,” I say.
This, of course, is followed by another meltdown.
Once that battle is fought out, it’s time to let them out into the pasture (the backyard) where I assume they will run free while I can get some yard work done. No such luck as, apparently, there’s no attraction like Daddy, so my best laid plans once again go awry.
Interspersed with all of this struggling is a lot of yelling on my part, for I do not have the patience of a saint or the ability to kneel down and say, “Now, is there a better way to express yourself than flopping to the ground and flailing?” So, of course, my frustration and yelling is always followed by guilt at not having handled things better.
But maybe I can handle things better if I stop expecting the morning to go smoothly. I can face the reality that cleaning (brushing teeth, bathing, etc.) dressing and feeding very young children is not akin to tip toeing through the tulips. It is a mixed martial arts contest with lots of grappling and struggling (both physically and mentally) where I am on top for nary a moment before the tables are turned. I can better mentally prepare myself for the struggle to come by accepting that it will be a struggle, so that I might handle it with more grace, composure and (ironically) maturity.
I can mentally roll up my sleeves for the task at hand.
I got to thinking about how important it is to mentally prepare oneself for what’s to come during our recent Webinar on telehealth with Dan Nigrin, MD, CIO at Boston Children’s Hospital. During the event, Nigrin said that in order to be successful — or even make progress — in projects as cutting edge as telehealth, you have to “expect failure.” For our purposes here, we can expand telehealth to just about any work that requires significant effort and tweak “expect failure” to “expect challenges and setbacks.”
As anyone who has accomplished significant things will tell you (or as studying their lives will impart), the road to achievement is paved with major potholes, not all of which can be avoided. Some simply must be driven over, with the attendant shock absorbed and damage subsequently repaired. Sometimes you just have to gut it out and make changes along the way. Starting the journey knowing that, with that mindset, will help you deal with what happens along the way.
For my part, I’m going into any major kid-watching stints (defined as being the sole caregiver for more than four hours) expecting the struggle, embracing it, and vowing to accept more “normal” kid behavior and, thus, hopefully, yell less. Of course, after four hours, I’ll still be looking out the window for Nanna’s car, and the much needed handoff.
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