Into the Jungle

I took a class on Vietnam in college as part of my history minor.
For some reason, one thing that sticks in my mind (besides the video of people drinking snake blood for pleasure), is the fact that the soldiers went from complete boredom, sometimes for extremely long periods of time, to life or death combat in just seconds. This took an awful emotional toll on them, contributing to some of the mental health problems some soldiers experienced after their return.
Now, I am not a solder, nor could I ever claim to be, but this little history lesson came to mind this morning.
Teresa and I were flipping through a magazine together by the kitchen table. David & the boys had just gone outside. It was in that quiet moment I remembered there was a honey cookie recipe I had been meaning to try. Even with Teresa's counter climbing habit, mixing up a batch with her help would be feasible.
I hadn't even scooped the sugared honey into the measuring cup that the door opened and Landen sprung inside. Of course he had to jump up on the counter and supervise, too (after washing his hands). A few seconds later Nathan followed, thankfully (and almost miraculously) shedding his muddy boots by the front door before running into the kitchen. Within seconds, I had three kids precariously perched on various levels of the counter and high chair, all trying to get a glimpse of the melting honey concoction on the stove.
It didn't take long for little fingers to start poking into the mixture and then all were sent away to play.
Where had the potentially quiet mother/daughter cookie baking experience gone? Another peaceful moment had succumbed to the chaos.
I cannot count the number of days I have worked to get all the laundry done or the house completely cleaned so I could have an "easy" day the next day. Of course other things usually fill in instead, but even when I do manage to squeak out an easier day, I've found that I would rather be busy than lazy.
When I have five minutes to myself, I start to think of all the things that I could do--like baking, scrapbooking, knitting, walking on the treadmill, or watching that Netflix movie that has been waiting for weeks. Just like my cookie experience today, I can predict that as soon as I settle into one of those projects or get the treadmill up to speed, a little head will pop in the door and it will be all over. This makes me frustrated and I inevitably turn into grouchy mom.
As mundane as it seems, it's better for me to be folding underwear or pulling weeds outside as they play. That way I feel productive and I keep my mind off of that fun stuff that will have to wait a few years (or until after bedtime if I still have the energy.) I've also found if I am busy moving around, my children have a more difficult time catching me. The hardest thing about being on modified bedrest in my last weeks of Teresa's pregnancy was sitting. I knew as soon as my butt hit the chair, I would have two little boys climbing on top of me, using their elbows on my tummy as leverage to better position themselves, and requesting their TV shows of choice. At least standing in the kitchen kept them at bay.
Feeling bored when I will potentially be home with the kids by myself for 12+ hours can be practically unbearable. Maybe bored isn't so much the word as lonely. When I am already feeling overwhelmed, the fighting, screaming and yelling that pierces the quiet affects me that much more.
What do moms like me have to do with the heroes of Vietnam? Perhaps nothing. Perhaps a little something. I'll leave that up to you.