There are telltale signs that I’m moving out of the green zone, you know — the cool, calm, collected mom who flows through her days with ease, and into the red zone, you know - the rage-filled, screaming momster. Over the last year, I’ve worked diligently with a therapist to learn when I’m creeping into the yellow zone and mitigating reaching the red zone, though I still get there sometimes.
It comes down to noticing.
Noticing the way my jaw starts to ache from clenching so hard. Noticing the increase in prolapse symptoms from clenching my butt. Noticing the soreness in my neck and shoulders from the tension I hold there.
If I notice these warning signs in time, then I can take a few deep breaths, do a few shoulder rolls, step outside to turn my face towards the sun, and return to the green zone.
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I miss my early warning signs. Suddenly, the noise of daily life is too much. My boys start fighting, and my heart starts to race. My thoughts turn to mush. I know I need to move. I take my children to a field to play, where they sit at my feet and whine. I pivot and return home. My husband walks out the back door as we walk into the yard. “Oh, I was just coming to join you,” he says. I explain the fiasco of our adventure to the field and ask to go to the gym instead of trying to navigate my workout at home. I know I need some space from the kids.
I pick a playlist and grab a medicine ball for my warm-up. Slamming a ball repeatedly to the ground releases the pent-up emotions. As I push and pull weights through the upper body lift, I feel my body settle. I finish with a 5-minute meditation to close. I walk home, feeling a weight lifted off my shoulders. I was on the verge of the red zone, and was able to take the time to get to the green zone. It took longer, but I had the support I needed, AND I was able to ask for the time and space to do what I needed to do.
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We have a basil bush, yes, a bush that I have named Betty. We went on a road trip, leaving our plants to the care of our neighbors, and came home to Betty the Basil Bush Thriving. However, Betty had also started to bloom, which is not ideal for a basil plant. My mom said we needed to pick the blooms off, and the plant would be fine. I took this task on to go out and pick off the blooms every other day or so. I sit on my stool and pick.
Some days when I find myself in the yellow zone, I like to walk out barefoot, sit on my stool, and tend to Betty. I breathe in the aroma of fresh basil as I pick off the blooms. It’s a rhythmic motion, and I methodically make my way around the bush.
When the hum of the dishwasher, the whirring of the fans, and the cacaphony of children at play all become too much noise, I take myself out to tend to Betty the Basil Bush.
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After a particularly difficult night, with lots of big feelings from my boys, we get them in their beds and my husband tells me to “go away” he’s got this. The baby goes to bed easily. A sense of defeat had begun to fill me. I wasn’t raging, I wasn’t overstimulated, at least anymore, but I felt run down. I decided I needed a space to relax. I light a candle and draw a bath. I turn off the light and fan, and immerse myself in the steaming hot water of the bath. I leave my phone in the other room and spend 30 minutes unplugged, breathing in the lavender scent and watching the candle flame dance. I emerge from the bath feeling cleansed from the yuck of the day.
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It’s a Wednesday morning, my favorite day of the week as it’s babysitter day. It’s my son’s favorite day too because it’s his short day for school. However, getting dressed and out the door on time is often the most difficult on Wednesday. This particular day involves more defiance than normal, which results in me losing my cool for the first time in a long time.
Once we make it out the door and are walking to school, I notice my son lagging behind, dragging his feet a bit on the walk. I feel calmer now that we’ve walked about half of the 0.3-mile walk to school. I realize I need to apologize to him for yelling when trying to get everyone dressed. I squat down to his level, make eye contact, and say “I’m sorry for yelling so much this morning. I was feeling frustrated, and didn’t respond well. Do you forgive me?” He says he does, we hug it out, and I reassure how much we love him.
The magic is in the micro moments, small resets after a hard time. A walk, a deep breath, a grounding practice — doing these small things allows for a reset so I can keep going and keep showing up for myself and my family.
This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series “Reset.”
Amber- this post was SO good. I feel like I could have written so much of this myself; such similar experiences here. I also prune my basil when I am in the yellow zone- SUCH a helpful exercise.. the rhythm of it, the smell as I snap the flower buds... it is just so regulating!
I loved this, Amber! Finding ways to reset amid the chaos that littles bring is not easy, but so important. Also, Betty the Basil Bush is hilarious! I, too, find respite in my garden. Thanks for writing this!