People are more important

 I am consumed by guilt this morning.

Last night I blew up at my whole family, ranting about how it is always about someone else and I never get to do what I want to do and I didn't accomplish one thing I wanted to this weekend because I was constantly waiting on or assisting with something someone else thought was important (you know, like taxes for the business, poopy pants, a drink of milk etc. etc.) It was not pretty and I am decidedly not proud. More, I feel terrible.

My own mother was steady as the sun. I rarely saw her explode like that. She got a little worked up once and awhile about how clean the house was, and my brother Brad somehow managed to push her buttons moreso than the rest of us. But by and large, she really was unselfish and hardworking to a fault. It's a hard model to live up to. I don't doubt, of course, that I may be oversimplifying what from the perspective of many years, looks like a pretty unselfish and constant mothering. I can only hope my own children are generous in their memories of my continually imperfect attempts at loving and raising them.

Yesterday when the girls and I returned from Mass, Chad was standing at the door in his workout clothes. "What do you want to do today?" he asked. Still full of the Holy Spirit, I generously responded, "Whatever you want. I'm flexible." You all know me. I am decidedly NOT flexible. But I'm trying. So he went down to run on the treadmill and I started the daily treadmill of feeding and caring for 4 little ducks. (Claire wanted eggs, Sam had just finished leftover PB&J, Grace wasn't hungry, Lucy was sleeping). It went on from there. Sundays are tough days, sort of, but shouldn't be. We have no routine--we sort of eat when we eat (which is frustrating. You finish feeding one, get the kitchen cleaned up, and the next one is hungry. Chad likes a big breakfast, I don't. I like a big supper on Sundays, but if we go out to do anything, its hard to get it prepared). You see how this is shaping up?

So our day went on. We spent a couple hours at Mines of Spain, hiking through the melty woods in the late winter sunshine. The kids threw rocks in Catfish Creek, Lucy fell asleep in the backpack against her daddy's back, we petted every dog and made friends with every dog owner we passed. We got home and I did the usual--housework, laundry, started supper. The kids watched their new favorite movie, "Evan Almighty." You see--in general, it was a peaceful, happy day. Except I am obsessed with my to do list. I wanted to finish our stupid Disneyworld scrapbook and clean off my desk (it looks like a paperwork tornado). I also wanted to do some yoga. Those were the ONLY 3 things I wanted to accomplish this weekend. And "to-do's" burn in my head with almost physical pain after awhile. Who the hell cared if I finished those things? But I can't shake it.

So, at 9 o'clock, when Claire and Sam were stage whispering in my bedroom about some task or other related to going to bed and they woke up a restless one year old queen I had finally settled down, I lost it. It was ugly and I'm aching just thinking about it. All because I didn't get 3 stupid things done that matter so little right now it is embarassing to even admit it.

A mantra we repeat often at home is "People are more important than things." I tell the ducks this often--when they are fighting over a toy or feeling bad about a spill or something broken. I don't think I will ever forget the time Gracie told me, "Mommy, people are more important than things to do." She is wise, that sweet little girl. Would that I could only get that message to sink into my bossy heart.