I should probably consider buying myself a journal and just write in that every day. Oh wait, I have several journals (some empty, some with a few entries, some with to-do lists) that I already possess. I think the hardest part is remembering to be consistent. Because life happens....and it happens fast. Details unravel...there are highs...there are lows.... most things work themselves out....
To try and catch someone up to speed can take pages of writing. Oh sure, there is the "male" version I could give you... "I have three boys...they are nuts... I'm becoming nuts... we're moving...again... yes, I know... again."
But c'mon... God made me a WOMAN which means I need to give you every detail, every back-story so you will COMPLETELY understand why...oh why... I look completely frazzled and in the same gym clothes I was in yesterday. If I didn't tell you everything, well, then... I appear pathetic. If I drag you through the highs and lows...why, then...I appear to have superwoman strength just to be there talking about it!!!!
(Does blogger still wrestle with a strong need to perform? Check.)
So here I am... in front of the Starbucks to borrow their Wi-fi (I'm going to get my cup of coffee... jeesh... it's not like I'm free loading... but if I go in, I'll see someone I know, make up excuses and not ever get a chance to write... I'm very honest that I lack willpower!) but I'm trying my best to get a post in.... I've got a great one up my sleeve about God's nutty journey the last few weeks but........but....
I have two and a half hours left.
See...some people cry and get wistful. I do. I DO! I do get choked up.. at the most random of things... the national anthem. Seeing soldiers come home. The end of my kiddos sports games (especially when they come and clap for US at the end of the game... be still my beating heart!!!)
But the end of City Kids PRESCHOOL?
Uh... no. I don't get wispy. I get sad. Very sad. A bit panicked and sad.
I really love those of you who are gasping and wondering if you should call protective child services on me right now. I love you because I'm AMAZED by you.... you are such great moms!!!
I love my kids, don't get me wrong. But the end of preschool is like a probation officer coming to my house and greeting me at the front door with a low-jack ankle bracelet.
I will now be reduced to a 30 foot radius for the entire summer break. I can't hear it go off, but my preschooler can. If I go upstairs to pee... only 10 seconds go by before I hear, "mom?" "MOM?" If I head to the garage for a minute... "mom?" "MOM?" It must sound off like a dog whistle... which apparently my son can hear because for the last week he's insisted he's a dog and simply barks for water or food.
Awesome.
Why, preschool directors, why? Why do we have to end earlier than our school-aged siblings? It's like a band-aid being ripped off over an 8 day period. Leg hair, by leg hair... my freedom is being ripped away from me.... my ability to shop down an entire aisle and look at new products, read labels and not have to avoid the dessert section..... gone. For the next 3 months I will no longer be able to get through Target without opening up the $1 package of God-knows-what-is-in-them animal crackers to keep someone in their shopping cart so we're not consistently calling out his name on the store intercom.
Gone are outisde runs with my Ipod; not accompanied by a stroller, 17 stops to look at bugs, feed ducks, collect leaves, pee outside, open snacks and head back after 700 feet because someone has to poop.
Gone are having full thoughts, full sentences or full cups of coffee without having to microwave it.
Don't get me wrong... I love my children. I really do. But it's not like I was a miserable person contemplating the meaning of life before I had them. So... for these 9 months I have relished my two and a half hours, three days a week, in which I get to visit the ghost of "Erin past."
Silence.
Talk radio.
Phone calls... even 7+ minute phone calls....
Suddenly, snack requests, shaving foam paintings and ominous "Thursday share days" sound delightful. Hustling out the door, always running back for our tote bag or stuffed animal leaves me wanting more... more... more of those!
I'm reminded of the lyrics in a Counting Crows song, "Why does it always seem to go, that you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone...."
Readers... it's been so nice to share these last few minutes with you. It has been a treat. I can't promise you when I might write to you again... I can't promise you the sentences will be coherent.... I'm thankful you can't hear screaming while I type. Doesn't really matter if it's mine or my children's. I'm thankful I don't "vlog" because you'd see me with those gym pants from yesterday and a stringy pony-tail.... mascara from April.
A parallel universe I am sure we can all relate to.... to love our little nuggies so much...so much it hurts...so much that we read other really great blogs from inspiring moms who are telling us how to raise our children even better.... but to also cry.. just a little bit.... that in now THIRTY minutes... my school-break is coming to an end....
Let the duck-feeding, bug-hunting and skipping the dessert aisle at the grocer BEGIN!!!
(Hey... you know that most of what I type is REAL but certainly not enough to call the police on, right? So... throw me a bone...anyone else dress in black the last day of school? Let me know!)
