Sleepy? Meet Grumpy.

We are always telling our kids to “use their words” instead of lashing out in anger or frustration. Sometimes in the few minutes after school ends, but before we can get a snack, our minivan seems more like it's carrying zoo animals, instead of a mom, a dog, and two kids. Sometimes there is sluggish silence, other times guttural groaning, and occasionally animated interaction.

When I think about everything that could have taken place while the kids have been at school, I wonder how they can even be lucid at this point. We’ve heard how asking kids, “How was your day?” is generally ineffective, and I think it would take a lot of maturity and self-awareness to be able to put into words the essence of all that transpired: sitting still, writing, navigating social waters, taking tests, playing musical instruments, getting in trouble, wondering who is best friends with whom, being hungry, using self-control…

The highs and lows in this 6 ½ hour time span are boggling to me. During that same 6 ½ hours I’ve had time alone at home, in my car, on the computer, and at work. These 2 little introverts of mine have been “on” all day long.

Sometimes we don’t always know what makes those around us grumpy. It took me 10 years to realize that Tom’s occasional stony silence and sourpuss looks probably had more to do with the Yankees losing than anything the kids or I had done. I know now to ask my generally pleasant husband, “Was there a big game last night?”

For the kids, grumpiness can come from anything from a scratchy tag to feeling left out in the neighborhood or wondering if a friend still likes them.

The things that get me grumpy are endless. Have I been fed in the last 3 hours? Do I have to pee? Did I get enough sleep? Okay, I know I sound like a newborn, but, truly, any of these can throw me off.

What about the morning newspaper? Can I find the Style section? Have I had caffeine? Ok, what about shoes? If my shoes are uncomfortable, watch out!

So if physical discomforts can send me into a tailspin, what about the larger issues—spiritual, social, relational? And people who are really, really needy? Yep, that throws me off, too.

I remember standing in the high school hallway with a colleague who insisted on detailing his Julius Caesar lesson plan to me at 5 pm. I tried to be polite and interested, but after a while, my mind went elsewhere. I had been there since 6:30 am for heaven’s sake-- would this guy ever stop talking?

He accused me of not giving him my full attention, which was true, but would he have chosen reality over my superficial nodding? Would he have preferred knowing that I was in a dire tampon emergency situation and that my mind was…elsewhere?

I guess what I’m saying is we don’t ever know what’s really going with other people. Sometimes we aren’t even self-aware enough to know what’s going on with us.

I was super grumpy to Tom and the kids this morning because I’m feeling stressed about being away Thursday through Sunday. Was I really pissed that Molly couldn’t find a uniform shirt to suit her fancy, or was I thinking about all the laundry I’ve done and have yet to do before leaving tomorrow?

When my kids are grumpy, I try to give them grace, knowing that while they can’t be disrespectful or hateful, home should be a safe place where they can relax and recharge.

When I’m grumpy, they tend to give me my space—“Look out—here comes Mom.” I know my grumpiness is NOT good model of “using my words”—as I huff and puff and sigh and pace throughout the house.

But home needs to be a safe place for Mom, too. I guess I could wear a little sign that says, "It's not You, it's Me" unless, of course, it isn't.

Come On, Get Happy!

Do you have the winter blahs? At our house, the months December through March are not very pretty. After reading about S.A.D., Seasonal Affective Disorder, I became convinced that at least 2, possibly three of us could use a little extra sunlight during these winter months. S.A.D. can lead to irritability, depression, and tiredness. I also read that this year S.A.D. would be worse than usual for night owls because of the way daylight savings time was extended for an extra month. I didn’t understand any of the science behind this claim, but I sprung into action.

Cruising the net, I saw a lot of light therapy boxes for sale. Most were enormous, monolithic creations that reminded me of the tanning beds I frequented in the 80’s. Not only did they look creepy, as if they had been assembled by either a mad scientist or an 8th grader in his basement, they cost more than $200! I took a leap and ordered a smaller, hipper version from The Sharper Image. It blends in nicely on my kitchen counter, so I can blast the kids with it at breakfast time. We call it “The Happy Light.”

All of the bigger boxes have dramatic testimonials and medical claims on their websites. The Shaper Image one doesn’t make any promises, but I do hope it works. I think it does something, because the first few times we used it, I sat the kids in front of it in the late afternoon, and they couldn’t go to sleep at night. I learned later that optimal exposure is in the MORNING and that using it later can cause insomnia. The Happy Light has not led to any dramatic changes in our moods, but I don’t want to risk not using it. We just got back from 4 days in Cleveland sans Happy Light, and we were none too happy.

The other product I considered getting, but my husband balked at both the concept and the price, was a dawn simulator. I figured we would use this very ordinary looking lamp in the kids’ rooms, and at around 6 am it would start to emit a very delicate glow. By our normal wake-up time of 7:30, the room would be awash in light, and the kids would bound out of bed refreshed and eager to start the day. My husband, however, suggested I could start getting out of bed earlier myself so I would be less cranky (ugh) and flick on the kids’ lights for free. Instead of gentle beams of light, they would awake to our normal sounds of morning, “Get out of bed! Move it! Now!” It is true that on the rare occasion I wake up much earlier than the kids, I feel calm and centered, but I have a hard time convincing myself that it’s such a good idea when my bed is so darn cozy.

I think it’s especially hard for my husband, a morning person, to deal with us on dark winter mornings. By the time the rest of us get up, he has walked the dog, brewed his coffee, played catch with the dog, and started on his morning devotional. He’s perky and cheery, playing Snow White to our Grumpy, Weepy, and Sassy.

Two of my favorite things in the morning are my cereal and the morning paper. I’m not sure if it’s making a difference or not, but I’ve recently added a third element to this morning routine: perching on a stool in front of the Happy Light after the kids head off to school. My husband wouldn’t dare say I need the Happy Light for myself, but I hope he’s reaping its benefits. Maybe the next time Snow White comes flitting into the kitchen, I won’t want to knock one of those annoying little birdies off of his shoulders.