Personal experience: how to not touch the mind with five children
'15.11.2018'
Source: Matrony.ru
Is it difficult for a mother of five children who are between 2 and 11 to be? Ask! And how to live and what to take to not go crazy? Live - with a joke and a smile, and take - ice cream. You make this conclusion by reading magazine Anna Neumann, Timofey's moms (11 years), Pasha (9 years), Ani (7 years), Petit (5 years) and Stefan (2,5 years).
Today I was finally asked what pills I was taking so as not to get mad with my beautiful children. The woman asked and "to do the same", - writes Anna for Matrony.ru.
The answer is: a bucket of ice cream under the cover of night, when everything is finally over. Careful, addictive and poorly compatible with morning weighing.
***
Summer is a time of ease and carelessness. In the darkness no one needs to be dragged into schools and kindergarten through the lifeless ice desert, dressed up as a polar explorer (while you yourself look like a Frenchman near Moscow in 1812). Do not sweat and slush dig up your way to the mainland. No mittens on the battery and dirty pools on the floor in the hallway.
Children in the morning run out into the street and rush there until dark. Sand castles are being built, little men are made of sticks and flowers, they are busy in the water and settling in a tree house.
Drink coffee with views of dill and currants. Listen to the birdseed on the birch and chatter of grasshoppers. Dine tomatoes and berries from the bush.
The linen takes off on a rope like signal flags, saying hello to the neighboring frigates. And the birds of heaven, instead of sowing, reaping, collecting in the granary - or, at least, hamster worms, which the Lord generously gave them - will certainly perch on your freshly washed pants, neatly hung in the sun, to leave their simple message: Dear Anya, you will have to wash these pants again, because we have not found a better place to express our attitude towards you. ” Fools.
***
The joys of motherhood: while the youngest is sleeping, run to the refrigerator, looking stealthily toward the open door, behind which three middle-class men are screaming in the mud under the rain (whose children are they? Who brought them here? Who raised them at all?) from the pan (children, never do that, the knife in the right, the fork in the left), grab a huge tomato (the knife? fork? plate? don't put the main clothes on the juice) - and CHAPTER!
***
My children scream, quarrel, fight in places, grab food from the table with unwashed hands and rush around the garden like a gang of savages. Today, I have to carry three medium to the pool, and I anticipate in advance how I will rush to the side in the image of the mother monkey from the famous masterpiece of Soviet realism, urging them not to shout and not drown each other, but in the end I will tear my voice.
But at the same time they are expressed as a detachment of intellectuals at an art exhibition or academicians at a scientific conference.
- Anya, are these little pants for you? (Answer choices are yes / no)
- Well, not that they are very small to me, but I can not call them the most comfortable of my panties.
***
Petichka - master of fiery speeches.
“Mom, I'm sorry, but we broke your mug. We did it near the bar, you can remove the pieces there if you want. But we did not want to break the mug, but just drink kvass, but it just so happened, forgive us. Forgive Already forgiven? And I know why you forgave us right away. Because if a person does not forgive another person, then God will not forgive him. But you don't need this, right? ”
***
I realized that never, it seems, did not write the post "Exactly ... years ago I was in the hospital." Correct.
Exactly 11 years ago, a doctor by the name of Glushko sternly asked me: “So, who is this here with you?” And shouted to the midwife: “Rather, show mom a pussy!”, And I laughed and asked: “I'd rather show me my face!” - but they waved it in front of me, until I obediently reported: "boy."
Then they gave the most beautiful child in the world to a happy father - and went about their business, and my husband stood three meters away from me with a valuable bag in his hands, diligently keeping his balance, and could not walk, because he was in a cast to the thigh, and the crutches remained in the opposite corner of the rodblock.
Since then, this is how it looks in our family: the husband keeps the balance of this world (noticeably expanded and complicated over 11 years) in rather foolish, but wonderful conditions, and I look at it all and laugh.
And in the hospital, we are probably still remembered.
***
Before falling asleep, Stefan turns to me in alarm:
- Mom, say the mosquito! Say to the mosquito!
- What to say?
- Say to the mosquito! So he did not bite me!
With an effort of will, I scrape my head off the pillow and solemnly declare to the ceiling: “Komar! I do not allow you to bite Stefochka, because he is my very favorite boy! ”.
Satisfied, he sticks his nose into my shoulder and sniffs all smoother.
Want to feel all-powerful - have children. To feel completely helpless is the same.
Because last night, Stefa's ear ached, he suffered and suffered sobbing, and I shook and comforted him in all possible ways and chased my children's father either for an otoscope, then for an otipax, then for Nurofen.
***
When I think about how (HOW? !!) all the 5 of my children managed to turn out so different, amazing, with such separate, convex, bright and dissimilar characters, I, of course, want to immediately give birth to the sixth. Well, purely see what comes out this time.
It’s good that my unreasonable desire alone is not enough. And what a pity.
(The sponsor of this post is Stefan Petrovich, who still does not sleep and broadcasts everything into space, revealing to me his unique inner world. I hope that he will soon cover it until the morning).
***
I found a drawing and I think: how cute, Anya painted me with a baby, she probably wants a sister. I ask the author. Ahhh, it's Baba Yaga, the boy sticks the boy into the stove, the young artist tells me.
***
Some are interested from time to time, is it boring for me on endless maternity leave? Well, look. Petichka painted another masterpiece. And despite the convincing statistical sampling, none of my children did such a drawing. The canvas depicts the mother of the family (a cephalon in the center of the composition), gathered to drink a morning cup of coffee. On the right is a bar counter, on it is a bowl of fruit. On the left is the staircase to the second floor, but this letter “P” in the upper left corner is the door to the nursery. The location of objects transferred absolutely reliably.
(She asked where her mother’s eyes were. And you, the author says, have not woken up yet. It’s logical, yes, I’m only going to drink coffee).
***
It is September already outside the yard, after summer hibernation woke up and began to boil school chat. I watch with enthusiasm how different everyone is.
In Anino class, excited mothers of first-graders of ballet class discuss the styles of swimsuits and ballet flats, as well as uniform sundresses and tights. Everyone considers it their duty to lay out 500 photo dusters of all kinds and purposes, pencils and notebooks, as well as bags for changing and warming up overalls (what do I need it for?) Found in the next store.
Pasechkin Waldorf parents have already discussed the shade of the walls in the classroom (warm red, a little orange) and the mosaic design around the sink and switched to the power of the sack bags and mental patterns (perhaps I’ll skip it, I should have enough brain for 9 months).
But Timkina above all this. They traditionally decide which of the teachers to gobble up.
Lord, give me strength. And nerves a couple extra miles.
***
I sit at a meeting at Anina School. Signed the application and delivered the date 1918 year. And this is only the second meeting this year ...
***
Two days ago we accidentally (ahem) bought a piano. With a complete non-musical me and not a special musical nature of children. And today, all morning, Tim, whom I have always considered a mathematically gifted boy, terribly far from all forms of art, is sitting and trying to improvise.
And if the forces do not leave me (and they easily), maybe someone will be learning from me from me.
***
It has already begun, but there is still enough summer Zen. Anna forgot 3's briefcase - why do you need it in the line? Paha was late for 4's class — well, we had breakfast together at a cafe, we lack personal communication. Third family meeting for the week? We met there with my husband and went home together, even though we talked. Today, approaching the Pashina school, I saw dozens of parents carrying hangers with ironed eurythmy dresses on their outstretched arms, and Paha pulled out his package, and it was chewed like a cow - but he finally CAM assembled, did not forget, reported and hung even on his hanger . Stefan is only sad that the mother is always worn somewhere.
***
The third day of study. I seriously think to unsubscribe from the chat room of the Ankin class - I have not seen anything like that before They generate 200 messages per hour. Today started around 6 in the morning. True, thanks to one active mom, Anna has counting material and a set of small squares for reading lessons. But for this, I read about 1000 meaningless messages.
And they can not think of what else to throw out a lot of money. But even then I think like Hippenreiter: you have to let them spend all their cash by October, you see, calm down. Method of natural effects in action.
***
Yes, I again run for "Mercy" with two more friendly mothers of many children. And I wanted to write an explanatory note for those who ask why we need it (those who are embarrassed to ask directly “have you gone crazy?” Or “do you have nothing else to do?”).
Well, firstly, when you’re a mother for many years, sometimes it seems to you that you are doing something meaningless every day: cooked food is eaten, washed floors get dirty (more often immediately), a wired T-shirt - “oh, I unintentionally, the learned English verbs are forgotten, the washed socks are over, the notebook has torn, the sundress is drenched in paint. If suddenly your child passed the exam for Pyaterochka or transferred an old woman across the road, then it is he himself who is “what a fine fellow”. But if he didn’t wipe his nose, he didn’t say “thank you” to the aunt, broke the window, didn’t do homework - that, of course, is not a good enough mother. Again.
And in this daily multi-year non-maternal wish, you know, a feat, a heroic act with all its mighty forces. Well, at least once a year.
But it is so petty. Important other. You see, when you give birth to a child, that's all, a beautiful and unbearable superpower immediately collapses on you. You are in every, literally every person, for some reason you can now see a boy or a girl. Here you look at the cruel cops, and you see this thin neck, and shorn neck, and these ears stick out. The traffic cop stops you, and you think: it’s cold to stand like that all day, and what he breathes here, and how he eats at all, at McDonald's, I suppose ... A huge aunt in the state station yells at you, and you understand that it’s in rubber jumped, and her mother sat and wiped her forehead, when she was a little flu sick ... Or homeless on the street - how much strength, work, nerves, love, sleepless nights in each invested. They, too, were blown onto a broken knee, probably, scolded for a puppy, which they brought to the house again ... It’s impossible to think about orphans at all - you know exactly what they don’t have - every minute.
And no one is a stranger, and it is necessary to immediately save the whole world, and no one - never - cannot die, absolutely no one ...
And you always have neither the strength nor the time, only if you tear it from your own. Yes, I can not even donate blood, because I weigh these necessary 50 kg only if I am deeply pregnant. And for me now all volunteers, all funds - heroes and angels. They are there for me. And if at least something can be helped - it is impossible to pass by.
That is why.
***
I sit drinking tea, taking advantage of a brief lull. Stefan comes running and puts a book on my head: “I dedicate you to a dragon!”. Immediately she turns to Anya: "I dedicated my mother to the dragon so that she ate you! .. mother, eat her !!"
***
Ahhhhh. Anne needs to bring acorns and chestnuts to work tomorrow. I will not go. If I pour her hazelnuts in the shell - roll? What else of the gifts of the forest? Chickpeas with lentils? Here is the maturity ...
***
Ohhh, what a magical day it was. Petichka, who suddenly found sinusitis, stayed at home so as not to walk in the kindergarten in the rain (ha ha). Therefore, we went for schoolchildren with Petichka and Stefan. They landed at Anina’s school, they were detained while they were waiting, Petichka (I recall, with sinusitis) successfully jumped in a puddle and soaked his feet. I shoved the three into the car, drove to get Pasha. But Pasha's carpenter, it's raining on the street, you need to go somewhere for an hour. We arrived at McDonald's while the children rode in the playroom, I even drank tea while sitting. Then, appreciating the rain on the street, I left Anya and Petya in the playroom (yes, I remembered all the stories about the abduction of children for organs) and ran to Stefka in Pashkina school (two minutes). They took Pasha, ran back - the children and organs were in place, they didn’t want to leave, Pashka rushed there too.
While I was running back and forth, it turns out, called Tim. They have a collection of links to prepare for the meeting. No, I say, I will not last another hour and a half with this camp. Tim is hysterical, just like an event without him. I held a conversation, asked my husband to call and fix the effect, stuffed four of them into the car - and realized that Tim had no place left ...
Snap Anya with Paha together, went after Tim. On the way, Stephen: “Write! To write! ”- stood on the emergency gang in the midst of everything ...“ Something is not being written ... ”. Tim is already calling evil - he has reached, but we are not. She calmed down, arrived, picked up, calmed down again ... They crawled to the house - tiptoeing through the rain, screaming at the mean, nagging Stefan, Timkino rumbling. During the 10 seconds I was dragging the bags out of the car (they even dropped by the groceries), Stefan bit his finger, Anya accidentally knocked Petya on the forehead, and Pasha locked himself in the toilet and could not get out. Everybody yell. She calmed, kissed, unlocked, rescued.
Now I have dispersed schoolchildren to do homework, took Stefu away so as not to distract, and I think that I’m answering those who regularly ask: “But you’re probably not bored, are you?”
***
Timofey Petrovich is practicing wit. Recently he said: “People are divided into two categories: some roll the world forward, while others run alongside and shout: where is this world going?”. "A clever boy, go far" (c).
Stefan, however, is not far behind. In the morning I looked thoughtfully at me and said: “We need to eat more vegetables so that there is no acne on the priest” (the source is unknown to me, I'm sorry).
Pasha went to camp. Yesterday they spent it, completely independent already.
Anna runs a choreography - rehearsing the central role of the third mouse on the left in the ballet "The Silkflower".
And Petichka brought me a bed in the morning, a caring boy.
Lovely children, in one word. If they hadn’t screamed yet, they wouldn’t have the price.
