I love being a Mom and I love these beings who made me a Mom, with a force more powerful than any I have ever felt or will ever feel. That said, 22 years is a long time at one career, even one as sacred as this one. I don't do "MOM" half way either, all my eggs (so to speak) are in this basket. I home school,nurse, and carpool (not all at once usually). I share my bed, my food, and my body with these delicious delightful parasites for as long as it is healthy for them that I do so. I feel called to this life, and I show up. I don't knock any other way to Mother, but my intuition and experience has guided me into this way.
That said, though I am hesitant to admit it, I have been feeling really burnt out lately. Maybe it's just a case of spring fever. It could also be related to my angst over the whole "where are we going to live?" situation. It could be the market, or more specifically-my husband's devotion to it. He works long hours in the market. (No, not the super market, the stock market). WHATEVER it is, causing it, I have felt restless and cranky and bored and guilty. (Moms are not allowed to feel anything but sacrificial love or a crack is made for guilt to seep through). I was certain last night, (as I expressed to my husband in one of those late night "let it all hang out and drown the poor S.O.B. in a "TYRANTial" down pour of words") that I would need to break away and get some "ME" time to relieve this restlessness I was feeling. Lucky for me, I have a ME weekend on the calendar- if I can just stay sane until April 23. Last night that looked like a long shot.
Today we went into San Francisco (LOVE IT) to buy my 13 year old son the much coveted sword from China Town (a Christmas present promise we had yet to fulfill). My 11 year old daughter was in a good mood after having been delighted to discover that her pink shirt with the glittered studs and the jeans with the glittered studs matched her pink cowboy hat with the glittered studs and her pink rhinestone cross necklace. My 4 year old bought and immediately broke, a $3.00 sword (which I spent over an hour fixing as soon as we got home. He was thrilled with the screw and duct taped improvement to the original model). The new DSI (Gameboy) came in and was available at midnight so we stopped by Game Stop on the way home for my son to buy it with the money he had been saving. While waiting for them to come out, my 22 year old called from Southern CA where he attends the Disney animation school (Cal Arts) to find out the title of the Pokemon episode he watched with his brother. He sounded busy and happy (I love what he is busy with - learning to animate)! When we got home, my 4 year old put on a black dance leotard, cowboy boots, a dog tag, his sword, and an "I mean business face"; certain that he was a fierce Ninja. Then all the kids went out with their sweet best friend (we have known since he was 6 mos old) and lit stink bombs and tried the patience of our neighbors with their enthusiasm.
If you made it through that paragraph, it may occur to you that there was absolutely nothing in this day directly for me. In fact, my day started with sitting in the sun for 2 hours watching my daughter kick butt at baseball and ended with me here on the computer 14 hours later. The only thing I can remember picking for myself today, was which topping to put on my frozen yogurt. Yet, as I sit here checking my Facebook (ME TIME - REAL TIME - BIG TIME), I am filled to over flowing with the joy of my vocation. This day has filled my children and if they remember it at all, they will remember it as a good day. It is a mystery to me how this works; but time and time again, just when I am certain my well has run dry permanently; some little simple miracle of motherhood fills it all back up and then some.
Having spread my kids out over so many years, I often wonder if there will be an ACT II for ME; where I get to just run wild with reckless abandon through my field of free will and endless opportunity (or any opportunity). I wonder if there will be a day when I spread these gilded wings of potential I have kept neatly folded- lest they knock all the brick-a-brack of domesticity hither and yon, and see how far I can fly. I don't suppose I am any different from any other mother on this point, except that my vision of "the golden years" involves a purple feather boa, rhinestones, and bawdy humor in some cabaret some where. There are no guarantees, in fact many would feel this is a sad hope to cling to in a world that prizes the young. However, at this moment, in this peaceful home with happy kids; I would not trade this lifestyle for anything. Tonight, I have found a small pocket of gratitude in which to breathe deeply a breath of fresh
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