Set the washer on spin

Shortly after lunch everyday I become briefly comatose. The same unbending urge to fall asleep that plagued me during my younger years and caused me to fall asleep at my school desk with my mouth gaping still haunts me to this day. The children are used to it. They flutter around me like fireflies to a lamp post while I slouch back on the couch in my moment of biological shutdownedness. This blackout period lasts less than five minutes and when I awake from the magical slumber I've uncorked Energy. I feel rejuvenated in a way that always surprises and, after bringing the living room back into focus, I usually bound from the seat ready to take on multitudes of chores. After an hour or so, my good energy is depleted and I tend to feel the weight of wanting to continue to pace manically from chore to chore but losing the battle to fallen blood sugar. Oddly enough, the children's adorable symbiotic play melts down at the same rate as my attitude and I begin to feel trapped. The children get louder, whinier, needier, hungrier...as do I. This breakdown of all that is good in the world happens in the same manner and about the same time everyday. My instinctual solution? Leave, with the children, of course. I usually suggest we either go for a ride or go for a walk. A few weeks ago I recognized the insanity of the moment and abruptly anounced we were going for a car ride. With the children in the back seat and I in the front, I somehow had a mental barrier between us that made it seem like I had a break. I drove a circle around town while the nutters dozed in the back seat. Close to home, I stopped by a fast food place and bought myself fried food. I sat in our driveway for ten minutes listening to music I liked and eating fries, feeling happy as hell. Amazing what a mental break can do for a mom.

Predictably, today followed this pattern: lunch, brief rest, energy, crash, escape. Today, escape meant a walk with the dog. The boy didn't want to join us, claiming he was too sick and after agreeing he'd stay behind while the girl and I walked the dog, he changed his mind the moment I opened the door. The poor dog went bonkers waiting for me to help the boy with his socks and shoes on because he was already leashed and didn't understand the hold up. The air outside greatly contrasted the air in our stuffy little house and improved our moods. When the walk was walked, although awkwardly since the boy insists on helping me push the stroller and the dog insists on pulling his lead, we decided to play with the newly fallen leaves in the front yard. I enjoyed a blissful parenting moment with my children; listening to the boy make up games and teaching the girl how to play them, until someone else required my attention. The children examined leaves on a young tree while I described peacefully how one was striped like a tiger and "Oh, this one looks like a painting! Do you see the purples, oranges and browns of Fall?" I was telling the boy how we shouldn't pull off the green leaves but to gently remove the dying ones because the tree would like that best when I felt a sting on my hand. I looked down and saw a biting black ant on my knuckle and quickly pinched him off, thinking "Oh well." I don't know why, because I didn't feel any other stings, but I looked down at my pants and, to my shock, realized my legs were coverd in hundreds of the little guys. And just like that, my whimsied moment was over as I jumped up, telling the children to step away from the tree because ants were upset with us and said we had to go in because Mommy needed to take off her pants. If they had been red ants, those blue jeans would've been stripped off in an instant but thankfully the ant god had mercy on my standing with the neighbors and allowed me to get my children and my dog inside before I stripped on the steps. I tried to do this calmly and with humor but did manage to scare the boy a little. He had three ants on the bottom of his pants and although I pinched them off easily, he insisted on being naked, too. After throwing on a skirt and starting the washer, I went outside to reclaim my pants as their rightful owner. Many of the ants had left their great enemy, but for those who stayed on, I'm sad to say met their demise in hot, soapy water.