When the World Is Too Much

blogging, Little Aussie

I write on Sundays, but I didn’t write yesterday. I didn’t write because I had nothing to give this space. I had a miserable weekend, and I could not think of one kind thing to say here. I thought I might write a post that said just that – “I had a miserable weekend. There is no moral to this story. End.” – but that’s not my style. And frankly, even typing that seemed like more work than I could muster energy for.

Nothing disastrous occurred to cause my weekendus terriblus, just a toddler on a rampage. I went out with my mother’s group on Friday night, which was not at all terrible, in fact a very rare and welcome night out with some lovely ladies. I was home by 11:30, just the right number of drinks and rather too much food imbibed, but then my pre-bed check in on the kiddo triggered the first of three in a row wake ups, which meant I wasn’t in bed until after 1. We were both exhausted when she woke at 5a.m., and apparently, my audacity at leaving the house a full 15 minutes before she was safely in slumberland the night before triggered such a bout of separation anxiety that she could not be left at the gym’s creche, where she is a regular and enthusiastic attendee, nor even leave my grasp for the better part of the weekend. I accidentally closed her hand in the refrigerator door for one moment, which turned us both to hysterics before naptime, and the day continued on that theme until we both fell fitfully into bed. On Sunday, my exhaustion had grown, and by 9:30a.m. when little daughter tumbled off the coffee table and I swooped her up to find a mouth full of blood, the shattering of my nerves was well and truly complete, though mercifully, it was just a bitten lip, not anything worse. Even the park, our usual cure all, provided only moderate relief. The theme of crankiness and misery continued for both of us, save only for an hour of Play School, during which she sat on my lap, and I stared at the screen like a turnip, blankly recalling that we’d seen the same episode on the theme of eggs that morning, but not finding enough wherewithal to pick up the remote and change it.  I can vaguely remember raging angrily and tearfully to Partner-in-Crime last night about the service at our bank, and then I think it was clear to all involved that a serious night of sleep was necessary for the survival of all residing within our walls.

I felt better this morning, more rested and resilient, and I finally got the idea to keep the clingy kid in the baby carrier, rather than try to make breakfast with her collapsed in a baleful puddle at my feet. We were at a tenuous truce, which was good enough for me. While she tackled her avocado on toast, and I savored my giant latte, I did my morning run through Facebook. This morning, status after status in my feed were pictures and posts from my friends in New York City who were in attendance at the People’s Climate Change March, which was deemed the largest climate march in history – I’ve seen reports from anywhere between 300,000 to 400,000 marchers.

I was so humbled by this display, and proud to know so many participants. My peacefully protesting friends included people I went to high school with, know from grad school, and professionally. I’m not going to get into the argument about why we need to be letting our officials know that climate change is the most important issue on the table for the entire world – if you’re reading this, you have the Internet, so I’m sure you already know the vast and indisputable science behind what’s happening to the planet. I just want to say how much my heart burst with pride to see the enormity and the grace of this march. Just when it would seem the world is too much, a pulsing mass of humanity comes together and reminds us how much better we can be. To my friends who were there, thank you for your energy. And thank you for sharing your images and experiences. I needed a dose of perspective today, and you have given me that, along with so much more.

And, if you’re reading this and still feel cynical, my friend over at The Necessary Cruelty found himself in the midst of the march today, and writes about his experience far more eloquently than I have here, though it would seem we took a similar emotional journey, a couple of ocean’s apart.

Here’s to happy endings – may they find us where we need to be found.

2 thoughts on “When the World Is Too Much

  1. Christie Wilkin

    “the shattering of my nerves was well and truly complete”—I’m sorry to read about your difficult weekend, and I truly hope the coming one is better! Now that my kids are older, and bring with them different challenges than the ones I faced when they were toddlers, I am sometimes tempted to think that life was easier back then. Your post brought back memories that I have buried down deep. My encouragement is that it does get easier. I suppose you could also argue that it’s harder, since the stakes are high when they are teens, but I personally find it easier to deal with fully conversant beings!—it’s true that my teens and tweens sometimes resort to toddler tantrums, but they are usually short-lived and not nearly so frequent as when they were little. It’s also a joy to watch the emerging adult and to begin to have grown up conversations. Having said that, I look at the photos from their toddler days, and I miss those cuddly creatures who depended on me all day long.

    1. Cristin Post author

      Thanks so much, Christie. I do suspect that I am also going to be an “older kid person,” though most days I really do love my toddler time. It was a particularly hard couple of days – I suspect molars and an emerging cold may have played a part in her horrendous mood. Thank heavens, she – and I – have been in far better spirits this week. Not that it will be the last of the toddler blues, I’m sure!

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