Inspiration comes from the smallest of people at the strangest of times.

It was a long day yesterday ... I was tired.  I was grumpy.  I was hot.  The following is a detailed account of my evening ...

My "to do" list of things that kicks in once the kids are in bed is ever growing.  Dishes, laundry, cleaning, personal "organization" and paperwork, and trying to squeeze in a workout.

So after doing the dishes and picking up countless toys, books, and tiny pieces of  ripped up  paper (what is THAT about?), it is finally ME time.  Time to work out.  Time to try to reverse some of the negative impact of childbearing on my aging body.

I was SO ready for ME time.  (A long weekend of indulging my every craving for all things 'ice cream related' had left me feeling somewhat bloated and baggy.)

So with Curtis and Luke out for the evening and Charlotte sleeping soundly away, I put Elliot in bed with a big sigh of relief and went down to the basement to start my workout.

And ...

No dice.  Elliot is up and coming down the stairs.

For a glass of water.

Which is already beside his bed.

And ... instantly I'm irritated.

Up the stairs we go to his room to drink some water and tuck in and kiss goodnight, again.

And I head back to the basement, back on the cross trainer and I find my groove and ... Elliot again.

This time the music isn't right.

"It's too happy, so I can't close my eyes, because the music is too happy for me to sleep."


I'm too tired and cranky and hot to argue with him about the music so up we go to change the CD.  And tuck in and kiss goodnight.  Again.

And I'm more irritated.

Back I go to the basement - the stinking hot basement - back on the cross trainer, back in the groove.  I manage to finish the 20 minutes.  Then, sweating I start in on the weights and sit ups and lunges and ...

And ...

Elliot.

"My watch fell and I can't reach it."


"His" watch is actually a watch that belonged to Elliot's Great Grandmother who is no longer with us and it's a watch that he insisted he be allowed to take home from Grandma and Grandpa's (Elliot suffers from an extremely forthright case of kleptomania).  So, needless to say, I was worried about the watch, and, trying to control my temper, I walked upstairs AGAIN to his bedroom.

The watch - so I was told - had "accidentally fallen" between the wall and the bed.  (The bed is a large, heavy bunk bed wedged in a corner of the room between a bookcase and the wall.  And under the bunk bed is a spare mattress.  A heavy spare mattress.  And on the mattress is about 3 years of dust, some old schoolwork and some dirty socks.)

I just looked at him and said, "I can't.  I can't get it Elliot.  Mommy is too tired and too hot and too busy right now to go moving a bunch of crap out of the way to get the watch.  It's going to have to stay there until the morning when Daddy can help me move stuff."

I was done.  I was angry with Elliot.  I was tired and hot and wanted my ME time and the bed was too heavy and there was too much stuff and too much dirt and dust and crap and I was beyond irritated that he had to drop the watch where it couldn't be reached.

And Elliot began to sob.  Uncontrollable, heart breaking, body wracking sobs.

"I need it.  It can't stay there.  I have to have it.  Mommy.  I have to.  It can't stay there."


"I can't honey.  I just can't.  I don't know what else to say.  I just CAN'T."  (I couldn't.  There wasn't time.  I didn't have the energy.  I was angry at being interrupted.  I was angry at Elliot.  I was suddenly very angry at the number of hours I had to accomplish all the things that I needed to do in a day.  And that anger suddenly became defeat.  I was defeated.   And that feeling extended beyond me in that moment and I thought of my Dad and all that he's going through right now, and my Mom and I hurt for them and I spiraled quickly and sunk to the floor in tears.  Sobbing myself.)

"I can't Elliot.  Mommy can't right now.  You just have to go to sleep."

Elliot, more distressed now because his Mommy was sobbing and not understanding why, started to cry even more.  And then he said ...

"But Mommy ... you can.  You can.  I know you can.  You can do anything.  I promise.  You can do anything Mommy."


"You can do anything Mommy.  Please."


Could I?  Could I do anything?  I felt in that moment like I couldn't do anything right at all.

But he said again, "Please Mommy, you can.  You can do anything Mommy. Please."


And so, crying and angry and sweating all over the place, I moved the stupid heavy mattress with all the dust and the papers and the art and the dirty socks and I flattened myself as much as I could and I crawled under the bed - all the way under the bed - and I picked up the watch and I crawled back out and gave him the watch and put the stupid heavy mattress back under the bed  and I sat back covered in dust and looked at Elliot.

And he smiled.

And he said, "See Mommy, I knew you could do it.  You CAN do anything Mommy. Thank you Mommy.  You can not be sad now because I'll go to sleep because I have the watch."


(I'd like to say that this story ended with him falling quietly asleep in that moment, content with his Mommy's ability to do anything he needs at any moment, and that I finished my workout and felt a renewed sense of peace of mind, but, that's just not true.  Elliot was up for a bit longer wanting various things.  I did finish my workout but then went on to finish a partially eaten bag of Doritos (I blame the meltdown).  I didn't really get any ME time because the remainder of the night was filled with a crying baby and a sleepwalking Luke.  I was inspired though ... and that's a pretty good feeling.)