I’ve been meaning to start a blog for the past several years. I’ve also been meaning to clean out my closet, sort through the junk drawer, organize the play room, and turn our shop garage into a studio. And yet if you come to our home today, the closet door will be tightly shut, I’ll warn you that to open a kitchen drawer will be at your own risk, the toy chest is full of cars without wheels and puzzle boards without pieces, and the shop garage is still a store-all for everything I mean to do but don’t.
Why can’t I seem to ever get to these things? The same reason my family room windows are constantly smudged no matter that I just cleaned them, the laundry room is six feet deep in clothes that need to be put away, and walking through the house in the dark is like navigating a mine field due to tiny plastic objects unseen by the naked eye, but painfully discovered by the soles of my bare feet.
I have young children. Three of them. That’s if you count my husband. And I am hardly the vision of your typical wonder woman able to juggle it all in a perfectly choreographed effortless dance deserving of a standing ovation. Nope, that’s not me at all.
I am a mommy on the brink. On the brink of almost but not quite enough time, on the brink of conquering the laundry, on the brink of dropping the dog off at the shelter, on the brink of pulling my hair out by the fistful if I am asked why even just one more time.
So here’s a little more you may or may not want to know about me. Before I became a mommy, I was a Flight Attendant. Actually, I still am, but for the time being my wings are clipped and my feet are firmly on the ground so I can spend precious time with my family. Part of my heart, however, is still flying about 40,000 feet above sea level.
There are some days in particular that I absolutely can’t wait to get back to work…. I mean, wouldn’t you love some time away from your kids and husband once in a while, too? Especially if you could spend 24 hours in Hawaii, poolside with a cocktail, watching the sun melt into the ocean? And have someone else make your bed, clean the bathroom, and serve you your food? And not have to worry about your children deciding to go for a swim without you, or reapplying their sunblock every 15 minutes? Or refereeing who gets which floaties? Or listen to your husband wonder aloud about what you should do next? And get paid for it? If you are shaking your head no, I have just one word for you — LIAR!
It’s funny though, that every time I think about putting that uniform on and packing a suitcase again, I get overwhelmed with feelings of sadness and anxiety about leaving the boys. Not to mention, something always seems to come up just about that time, like my mother-in-law being diagnosed with cancer, then falling and breaking her ankle and leg. It’s not always so tragic, but it does seem that just about every time I start to get excited about returning to work, something comes along that leaves me wondering how could I possibly be away during such an important, precious time in my children’s lives, and how important will work be at the end of my life? Would I look back and miss serving peanuts and soda, or miss moments with my kids? So I guess what I really like to do is daydream about going back to flying. And it’s a wonderful thing to have that option.
Yes, my children can exasperate me, and I am not someone who is afraid to admit that. But the truth is, I love that I am around and able to spend enough time with them that they are able to exasperate me. Because they also make me laugh, they make me proud, they make me imagine and create. And last night, Addison wrapped his arms around me and said, “I am so happy to have a mommy like you. I love you.” Those are the moments I don’t want to miss!
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