First off, I'm sorry if the word "bitching" offends anyone. Wait. No, I'm not. I mean, my goal is not to be unnecessarily vulgar or anything but this is my blog and I can say "bitching" if I want to. Besides, that's what this post is.
You've heard mention of the "witching hour" before, right? Well from about 3 pm to 6 pm is the bitching (or bitchy) hour around my house. At 3 pm I'm just getting home with my kids (for those who don't know, I have to transport them myself to and from school which is about 25 minutes away) who begin to mimic broken-record-zombie-dictators with tapeworms.
Concurrent with their unfortunate daily transformation is my own personal mood crash. I'm sure that THEIR mood crash doesn't do anything special for MY mood crash, but I'd probably have mine anyway. My ADHD meds (Vyvanse) wear off around that time, plus I've usually been gone most of the day and I'm coming home to finish "work" work, "house" work and dinner making plus setting up the house of cards for the next day. I probably need a snack and a power nap by that time also. I've usually got to pee with a vengeance (and my poor bladder has been through two babies stomping on it internally like they're those Italian women stomping grapes for wine) as I'm trying to open the door and carry in backpacks, lunch boxes, various cups, sundry household goods/groceries and my own bags. The dog has been crated and needs to go out. The kids want to play this or that or go outside and they're hungry. Not just somewhat peckish. I mean STARVED. But then they refuse to eat anything that I offer them.
I try to plan ahead and cut the zombie-dictators off in the car on the way home. I have granola bars, fruit snacks, saltines, water, apples, and rasins. Do they eat any of those? No way, Jose. Even when I ask them ahead of time what snacks they might like? Nope. Why? Simple. The zombie tapeworms don't emerge from hypersleep until we set foot in the house and my bladder is suddenly jiggly with neglect. Add in the reliable, yet ill-timed phone call or a visit from a Jehovah's Witness or neighborhood child or something and I swear that you can see smoke coming out of my ears like Yosemite Sam (but I wax my upper lip so I'm not quite as hairy). That chunk of time seems to D-R-A-G on forever until my husband gets home, despite my best efforts to prevent it which only further upsets me.
I took a class in Buddhism in undergrad and learned a very interesting concept. I'm sure I won't capture all of the subtle nuances of it, or even the right name, but it was something along the lines of the Large Pastures Theory.
The idea goes like this: If you have a cow (which I clearly don't, and I know nothing about cowing) and you want to keep it under control and in one place, the best way to do so is to let the cow be a cow and give it lots of space and don't restrain it. By letting it have lots of space and allowing it to do cowish things, you are actually more successful at controlling it. This seems slightly counterproductive to a type-A-er like me. Or it seems like you're living in denial--"Oh, that cow? Wandering all over engaging in cow tomfoolery? Yeah, I wanted her to do that. I'm good with it. I really am. Yeppers."
But then I thought about it. The more time and energy and cow restraint building that you invest in cow taming or whatever, the more upsetting it is when your cow misbehaves. I'm not sure how a cow misbehaves, exactly, but my guess is smoking "grass" and making cow pies everywhere. Sounds like trouble to me. Anyway, if you let the cow be a cow and you allow it to behave as it does then YOU ARE LETTING the cow do its thing. You're the cow boss. You are in control. No denial. You can't half-ass it. You have to truly let go and allow the cow to be a cow. You can't control the cow (or it would be difficult and upsetting to try and do this) so you control yourself and allow the cow to be.
So to come full circle, let those zombie-dictator-tapeworm-having-snack snobs be who they are from 3-5:30 pm with some basic restrictions. The Buddhists didn't say to let your cows run amok everywhere, they said "wide pastures" and that implies some type of limits. I will give my zombie cows snack options. I will have said snacks at the ready. Just because you're giving your cows a wide pasture doesn't mean that you get rid of your pitchfork. (Wait, do cow farmers use pitchforks? Or just vegetable farmers? Whatever. You catch my drift.) I also know that you can lead a cow to granola bars but you can't make them eat. I will try to pee BEFORE I get the kids. I will allow them to decompress when they get home with a video while I decompress with a Diet Coke (and rum?). I will know that they're going to turn into crazy repetitive beasts ("Can I play with Play-Doh right now in the living room?" x 100) and I will let them BE beasts but I will also only let them be beasts while they're in the pasture that I set up. And my pasture has no Play-Doh in it. I won't make them talk about their days or do homework or eat macrobiotic foodstuffs or clean the hardwood with their toothbrushes or anything else...from 3:00-5:30. They can be wild (sort of) zombie-cow-dictators because I'm letting them be that way. I'm the head farmer on this zombie plantation and I'm saying that it's OK. Just as long as they don't make cow pies in my living room.
I love to read your writings.
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