I’m trying to go Zen. I want to be a relaxed, at-peace-with-the-cosmos type of mother. A mother who, upon seeing Chex Mix spilled all over the newly vacuumed carpet, doesn’t scream “WHO SPILLED CHEX MIX ALL OVER THE NEWLY VACUUMED CARPET?”, but instead gazes reflectively upon said Chex Mix and appreciates its position in the world before grabbing the Dustbuster and rebalancing the universe. That type of mother.
My Zen quest isn’t because I’m a Buddhist seeking higher enlightenment. Or because I’m fed up with our shallow, materialistic society. It’s not even because I’m one of those trendy women who wear yoga togs while scarfing down $1 Double Cheeseburgers in their SUVs. Nope. It’s because I’m the mother of two rather energetic, let’s say, preschool boys.
A few months ago, I started taking evening walks to relax after my chaotic daytime hours with them. But the night I had to stop myself from slinking into the next town, dying my hair in a gas station bathroom, then buying a fake passport from a truck driver named Tiny, I realized I needed something stronger – the power of Zen.
First, I tried the “two calming breaths” technique, but this made me sleepy. Next I tried visualizing my happy place. My happy place is my bed. This made me sleepy. Then I tried slow stretches and yoga postures. Again with the sawing logs. Finally, I came up with a mantra. A short, simple phrase to repeat in my head to keep me calm and relaxed.
That night my 4 year-old son Sam woke me at midnight and started whining that he was hungry. OK, I thought. Don’t freak out. You’ve got your mantra now. Zen, baby, Zen.
“Mommy! I want a peanut butter sandwich!”
Calm peaceful mommy
“I know I should have eaten dinner, but I’m starving!”
Calm peaceful mommy
“You can’t let me go back to bed hungry!”
Calm peaceful mommy
“Thanks! Hey, I don’t like brown bread!”
Calm peaceful mommy
“Are you asleep again? I want some string cheese.”
Calm peaceful mo…
Calm peaceful…
Calm…pea, oh #I&*# it!
“SAM, GET IN YOUR BED! YOU’LL GET YOUR STRING CHEESE IN 7 HOURS WHEN THE SUN RISES AND THE REST OF THE WESTERN HEMISPHERE GETS THEIR STRING CHEESE! Love you. Good night.”
I tucked Sam in and got back into my bed, heavy with sleep. Yes, I lost it, but I lost it much later than I would have without my mantra. I was almost a Zen Master, really. I wondered if the mall had one of those orange monk robes in my size…maybe I should get my head shaved while I’m there, too…might be nice for summer.
Then I repeated my mantra one last time, closed my eyes, and…lay there wide awake. But I didn’t panic. Oh, no. Instead, I called upon my newfound Zen skills. I took a few deep breaths, visualized my happy place, stretched my arms and then effortlessly, gloriously entered Nirvana.
You’re a GREAT momma, Wendi! Would you like to spend a few weeks at Casa de Dent and starighten out Fenchurch and her Terrorist?
It’s not that I don’t love them to pieces (itsy bitsy pieces wanders through my mind occasionally), because I do.
It’s just that sometimes, they could make St. Francis of Assisis kick babies.
Ahhahaha. …deep breath…
I’ve found that locking my office door and cranking up the Napster is very calming. If I turn it up loud enough I can’t hear him banging on the door. However, once he decides to go outside and hurl things at my window… it’s on! 😉
Good luck with your zen!!
You didn’t loose it. You didn’t say fuck to them once.
That is my measure of loosing it. If I actually curse, then they have gotten to me in a way that only small people that came out of your womb can.
I think now my only option is to wait until I am really old and they will feel obligated to do things for me because I am too feeble and weak. And OH, I will enjoy it. I may even start wearing diapers before I really need to.
Sad to think that time is so far off. sigh.
Oh Wendi,
You win, you really win! If only Zen worked. Glad I found you.