This sponsored post for Socialstars is part of the Every day, care Project from Whirlpool®. #EveryDayCare
Family life: the last frontier. Well, not really. But when you're in the middle of it, it can feel like nothing lays beyond. Sometimes it seems like a hectic/angry/love/panic-filled whirling black hole. This spinning vortex of family is a lot closer to reality than the gentle glow of a picturesque Christmas card. At times, it feels like the only thing holding us all together is an unexplainable center we're just circling around.
There was my 9 month pregnant copilot. I love her to death but if I were actually traveling through the dangerous depths of space, I wonder at times if she would even be safely kept in the cargo bay. Before she gave birth, the hormones were in hyper-drive (see what I did there?). One moment I was a great ship captain worthy of accolades and adoration. A second later, an alien being seemed ready to burst forth from her stomach while her eyes lit up in a fiery blaze of fury and destruction. Just when Captain Nate thinks he's stemmed the tide of mother's fury, she suddenly morphs into a forlorn girl who just got done watching Beaches, When Harry met Sally, and Fools Rush In all at once.
Caregiving can be rough. I have to bring in a mop to clean up all the tears.
Our poor crew. First Mate Some Boy (3 1/2 years) and First Lieutenant Sidekick (2 years) seem to be half innocent-yet-adorable babes and half panting-wall-carving gremlins. Nary a surface in our home hath been spared the wrath of their destructive force. I would say that if Chelsea were operating in standard conditions, the boys would not be such insurmountable foes. Unfortunately, she not only had to work from home and watch the boys but also had to do it all while pregnant with another one of my tiny giants.
I find myself exhausted when I get home from work. It's easy for me to slip into the cozy nebula of YouTube and Facebook to take my mind off the day. It's a way for me to mentally check out. But then I hear the groans and cries of the gremlins followed quickly by the desperate, shrill pleas of my copilot.
As ship captain, I know I have few options. I must act fast and make a sound decision in order to save my mission. Operation Sane House must succeed or the fate of humanity will suffer.
I put the boys in their space suits and we go for a space walk while Chelsea enters some type of cryogenic sleep. She needs a break.
I used to think of this act as a burden. “I'm going to have to deal with them and not get any time to myself!” But then we started going for regular walks. Once there, I found that the world got bigger the further away from my own desires and distractions we got. I was not only able to give Chelsea time to regain some type of sanity, but also discovered an opportunity to connect with my sons. We could discover “roundy-rounds” (windmills), horses and dirt clods.
To them, I was no longer the stoic captain they had known. I was their father. To me, they no longer seemed like gremlins but curious little boys. Boys with minds hungry for new knowledge. They got a break from being contained as we ventured into the unknown.
“What that dadda?” Sidekick asks, pointing to a flower. With a matched level of enthusiasm, I exclaim, “That's a flower, buddy!” Seeing the excited and satisfied look on his face, I realize this is the break I needed.
I can get joy from showing them the simplest things in our world.
To read about more simple acts of care that can enrich and nourish the lives of those we love, visit EveryDayCare.com.