I feel like my life has perfect balance. Which works well for my anal mind, because I like things to be just so. Like when I eat something bite size, I have to have an even number. JuJubes, for example. I have to have 4, or 6...not 5. Because then there is a balance between the right side of my mouth and the left. I would like my teeth to decay at the same rate. Or for my jaw muscles to be the same strength. I don't want an unbalanced face.
It reminds me of that episode of Seinfeld, when Jerry is 'even Steven' in everything. Loses $20, finds it. Even Steven. Only in my life, it's a bit more ying-yang-ish. Yes, that's a word. The good balances out the bad.
Let's look at today, for and example:
The boys and I headed to Old Navy today, because they are having a 30-40% off ALL kids stuff sale this weekend. The kids all need bathing suits and sandals for Mexico next month, and the flip-flops were $3.45, so I figured that was a sale I couldn't miss. We hop in the car and head out there. Try on shoes, look at bathing suits, and shorts and t-shirts. In the meantime, Logan manages to loose the flip-flops that we chose for him and is walking around the store bare-foot. Then, he hides in some clothes (something he learnt from Max...thank you), and nearly gives me a heart-attack because I can't find him. Next, he decides to take his jacket off and leave it on a random shelf, so we have to spend an extra 20 minutes in the store searching for it. 20 minutes that we did not have.
We get to the car and the boys are hungry and tired. As am I. I have a sandwich leftover in the car for Logan and pass it to him, and tell Max that he'll have to tough it out until we get home. They watch Backyardigans on the DVD player.
When we get home (tired and hungry), Logan pitches THE BIGGEST FIT he has ever pitched in his life when I turn off the DVD Player. Let's just say the time-out in his carseat while he was screaming and kicking and nearly crying himself into a vomit was nearly more than I could take today. I kept thinking to myself, does he realize that the 20 minutes we spent looking for his coat in Old Navy are what have put him over the edge and in this foul mood? No, of course he doesn't realize that.
Finally, when he's exhausted himself into a glassy-eyed stupor, I am able to talk to him and explain that we don't act that way. He says sorry and ok, but I'm not sure it was really getting through. I slam a quick yogurt into him, and then it's up to bed.
This is my morning. And where is the balance?
After such a tantrum, he has exhausted himself to the point where putting him to bed is only a matter of laying him in his crib and he is fast asleep. Beautiful. Let's hope it lasts. And I come downstairs to see that Max has eaten his lunch faster than what I think is humanly possible for him. He has put his yogurt container in the garbage and his dishes in the dishwasher and he's headed downstairs as quiet as a mouse to play.
It's a beautiful gift, and I appreciate it. At least it's only one tantrum at a time. For today. And my life is in harmonious balance.
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