It was one of those days. There have been a few of them lately, actually.
It usually begins with a hot night. The kind where you lie awake and dream of sleep. The kind when the light is out at 10.30 pm and everyone is in bed, but the kids are still giggling and chattering in the dark because it’s too hot to go to sleep. The mattress feels hot. You toss and turn, trying to find a cooler patch. The fan blows hot air in your face, but it’s the best relief on offer. You get up at midnight and the thermometer in the kitchen says it’s still 30 degrees celsius – what you’d expect at midday in summer on a normal day. Even the air feels heavy and hot to breathe. You doze off and sleep fitfully for a couple of hours until a hot breeze wafts in the open window and wakes you up, and then you can’t sleep for ages. Or someone in a noisy car drives by and it’s enough to keep you wide – eyed for an hour or two. Yes, one of those days. Or nights, actually.
A cooler breeze drifts through the window just before dawn, and you try to sleep in slightly more comfort. But the birds are noisy, and the sun is coming up, and it doesn’t last long. You get up, tired and stiff, and wonder if you really had a rest at all. It’s the coolest part of the day, but the thermometer says it’s still 26 degrees, and it rapidly gets hotter and more humid, till you’re longing for dark when the sun goes away, but you know that sleeping will be for those privileged enough to be able to ignore the heat. Oh yes, one of those days.
It began like that. The kids went to sleep late and woke up unrefreshed after a hot night. So did Mum and Dad. And another hot day was on the way. So humid that the idea of touching another human being doesn’t enter your head. So hot that you wish winter would hurry up and come. The day dragged on as we shopped in the heat. In and out of the hot car. Herding kids with trolleys around the supermarket. Issuing instructions to be careful and not to run. Refereeing squabbles. Hoping they didn’t hurtle around a corner and take out some old lady. Totally sympathetic when old ladies looked alarmed at the approaching whirlwind. I could understand that. Smiling when the man in the ink cartridge shop saw them having a spirited conversation and knowingly commented that school must go back soon. Indeed, it does.
In spite of the heat and being tired, they wanted to run everywhere. Up and down the aisles. (Ok if no one else in aisle. Problem if said old lady appears). Around the supermarket collecting empty cardboard boxes to proudly present to the bemused checkout girl. Along the street on the way to a doctor’s appointment. (Many reminders to be careful of cars coming out of driveways). WHERE do they get the energy? I feel like a limp old rag.
The energy wasn’t only used for running. Not when there were squabbles to be had. What else would a hot day be for? You couldn’t possibly use it for getting along peacefully. Could you? They didn’t. There were arguments in the car (their favourite place). Differences of opinion in the supermarket. A stranger, son in tow, commented to TD that he’d better be careful or the man might accidentally buy him instead of groceries. I muttered something about being ready to give them away, and the man turned to his son with a laugh and said “We’re taking these two kids home. They’re being naughty!” It was a light hearted moment, but the reality was, they were. TD in particular, was obsessed with the need to be annoying and obnoxious, especially to his sister – it must be a boy thing. I felt like I was about to go crazy. Oh yes, it was one of those days.
It was a long day. I had a lot of jobs to do around town. And the longer the day got, the more ratty the kids were. I was glad when Michael showed up and distracted them for a few minutes. Then came the long drive home. TD was mean to Rosie, and I’d finally had enough. Instant loss of a dearly cherished privilege. He’d been warned about his behaviour: now it was time to act. He realized I meant business, and that no amount of pleading or contrition was going to change my mind.
And after we got home, he was a changed boy. He sat on the couch and quietly read a book. Studiously ignored his sister, even when she tried to engage him. Went and had his shower without being told. Even graciously accepted the loss of his privilege. WHY couldn’t he have been so easy to get along with during the long, hot day in town?
The docility didn’t last. Another hot night. Another morning of moping round the hot house. Too hot to play outside. Tired of playing with Lego. Nothing to do. Bored. So, create some action. Pick on your sister. Start a fight. Both spend time in the corner till you can apologize and be nice to each other. Will this bad behaviour EVER end? Will it ever NOT be one of those days?
I’d had enough. Think outside the square, Mum. I got out two little water pistols I’d been given years ago. We’d never used them because water is precious when you’re on tank water, and I didn’t want to encourage the idea that water can be randomly wasted. We have enough trouble keeping water wastage under control as it is. But today, I didn’t care (and there’s been plenty of rain lately to fill up the tank!). I gave them a water pistol each, and half a bucket of water to fill it up, and told them that when it ran out, the fun was over. I put it in the shade of the camellia tree, put their hats on, and told them to go shoot each other with water pistols instead of arguing.
In a matter of moments, squeals of delight filled the back yard. They were suddenly best of friends. They had a marvelous time wetting each other. Somehow, the streams of water dissolved all the hostility, and they actually wanted to be together again. They played together all afternoon. Happily. Muddy footprints in the bathroom were a small price to pay for the peace.
And I got to thinking, they aren’t so very different to adults. We get tired and grumpy. We get to the point where we need our own space and don’t want to hang out with each other because…we just need a break from being together all the time. We might not run around shops in a whirlwind of activity or alarm old ladies, but we can be grouchy and prickly and make others wary of being near us. So why are we hard on kids when they are having one of those days? Something along the lines of “I need to take the log out of my eye before I can get the speck out of yours?” Probably!