I’m stepping out. I’m trying something very different and I don’t know if I’ll like it. Frankly, I’m scared.
I’m seriously considering taking our youngest to day care for half a day through the week.
Not exactly tattoos and piercings type of insane, I know, but a big change, none the less. I’ve done very little besides Be Mom for almost 10 years and I like that very much. It’s a point of considerable pride for me. 🙂 I love my kids “a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck.”
Here’s the thing(s) about me: I find it very difficult to do more than one thing at a time. I see other moms with their clean houses and vacuumed cars and organized garages and caught-up laundry and perfect bodies and no stress and put-together lives…I can’t do that. I tried. It made me cranky.
(Cranky: a word which here means to act like a meningitis-infected gorilla).
I have no delusions of grandeur (although, Flemming and John may be able to assist). I just need to try something new, give myself a couple of hours a day to work out, clean the house, and accomplish a few projects. I’d actually like to see how fast I can run a marathon if I trained for once. …training for an endurance event…huh!…there’s a novel thought.
I am, on occasion, an A student. I’ve been known to write a few things that are rather impressive and cerebral. I’m a decent sprinter. My cooking, I’m told is a bit of alright. I can make my husband laugh so hard milk spurts out of his nose. I’m in here somewhere.
...and now for the part of the show where-in we show-case a Guilt-Trip! Pack your bags! It’ll be great!
So how do I not feel totally crappy for shoving my kid (wonderful, adorable, cheerful! mess-making! kid) off for four hours a day? I’m a mom. I’m supposed to be able to be SuperMum. I’m supposed to be able to bake bread and scrub floors and organize closets and take snazzy blog pictures and wear heels and take classes and carpool and…and…and…
I’ve come to realize that I am not (sad to say) SuperMum. And yeah, I know all that stuff about “if you don’t take care of you then you’ll have nothing to give to others” and “you have to take care of you first”…blah blah blah. Yeah. Right. Like any mom can really do that without feeling twinges of guilt and panic. Children, by definition, require so much of us. Husbands require bits and pieces, too. Families take, sometimes, all of us…I struggle with salvaging what’s left of me so that I can joyfully give more. I realize its an investment, I’m not stupid. But it’s hard to think about letting anything slip through my relaxing grasp.
I have these things called “Worry Strings”. They keep the whole world from falling apart, did you know that? Seriously. If I quit worrying, I think a big, hairy, onion-smelling storm would just wipe us all off the map. True story.
I’m just Mum. …just a Mum who needs a minute or two.
I can have that. Right? …(sigh)…