It’s about that time of summer that I find myself confused.  I find myself acting like a pendulum, one moment wondering what the hell I am doing home with two small children’s lives in my care all day.  I’m blowing almost 1 out of every four minutes spent together.  I don’t say things softly enough.  I don’t stop and think about everyone’s point of view before responding sometimes.  I don’t go in the pool with them at the end of the day because I can’t bear the thought of playing one more game!  I sit quietly at the edge and pretend not to hear them play and laugh and argue.  But the whole time I’m listening to my little boys interact and power play and care deeply for each other too, although sometimes misguided in its representation. 

And then the next moment I see my son climbing on the furniture and tripping over something on the floor, breaking it to smitherines, and I feel tears welling up gently in my eyes.  I’m going to miss him bossing us all around and building large contraptions with couch pillows, paper, tape and keeping the house in general disarray all around him.  I am going to miss his cards and sweet words and little “treats” he makes for us every single day.  I am going to miss taking my boys to activities and laughing at the various uses of the word “butt” in a sentence, song or poem.  I’m going to feel very empty the first week my oldest heads off to second grade!  And when did my oldest child get that old!  I sit next to him on the couch, and he’s practically as big as I am—not that that’s saying much.  I’m the size of a large leprechaun, but still!  And he rolls his eyes at me and says, “Mom” in this disgusted way.  Seriously, I want to smack that look off his face like I swat at those persnickety little flies near my picnic lunch.  He told me I’m a pain sometimes last night.  And I’m going to miss that. 

They’re psychotic episodes!  That’s what I would have called them before I was a mother.  I would have wondered about my chemical imbalances!  And yet, I am fully aware that this is how it is and is going to be.  There is no medicine that will help me even these babies out.  However, there is alcohol to numb the pain of finding out I am…  slightly psychotic.