Monday, I rolled Home tired from a day of dying fabrics and learning in a town thirty minutes away. The kids are eating dinner. My dad had volunteered to take the kids to school in the morning and walk them home in the afternoon so I could attend this fabric dying and quilting class with Denise Laberdie. As I sat on the porch rocker watching the kids climb the tree after finishing a meal I did not have to plan, make, nor clean up, I imagimed for a moment that I was the man of the house.
After enjoying a few minutes watching the kids, I would go inside. Yes, inside to the air condition. I would plop off my shoes in the middle of the family room floor. I'd sit on the couch and turn on the boob tube. (Wait, I wouldn't call it a boob tube if I was a man, would I?). Seinfeld would be on; I've seen this one a couple of times. Still funny. I would play Scrabble on my iPad. Spouse would wrangle with the kids. Once things settle down upstairs, I would wonder up. I'd finish my game and wait until Spouse has finished homework with one or the other kid. A short check in, "How was your day? Did you learn anything new?". Okay, good night. And it is off to bed to. Watch some online episodes I missed or read a book.
Well, that is not exactly what happened in the real world. Rsther, I had a small snapshot of what a full time working mother must feel like. Luckily, my dinmer was made and kids fed. Left overs were in the fridge (I actually prepared that the day before) But, once Dad stepped out, it was all me. Somewhaere between homework, baths, and teeth brushing, I cleaned the two upstairs bathrooms and dusted the master bed room. Since I squeezed in vaccumming the upstairs and mopping the downstairs between church and going to the Bay for one last swim in an outdoor pool, I comsidered House "clean enough" for the week. Man, I was tired. May legs were actually shaking and muscles cramping from standing all day during the class and cleaning. Yet, I swam through the evening
getting homework completed, e-mailing teacher questions about said homework, sending son back to
brush teeth a second time, clipping kids' finger nails, painting mine, talking with absent Spouse on the phone, cleaning up kitchen, changing the water in the fish bowl, feeding the hermit crabs, picking up books in the middle of the hall, getting ready to cater dinner for the women in the quilt class the next
day, replying to select e-mails, and probably a gadzillion other little things I fogot. The kids were
tucked into bed. First chapter of Book Club selection was cut short as I fall asleep.
This afternoon, day two of full day class, I get another view of a full time working Parent. The
kids are well care for, fed, dressed, and run to ballet (Daughter, Son plays his Nitendo DS) by dear
Papa-Nanny. I am happy to meet the kids at the door. Homework wasn't done before practice. So
straight upstairs...what? Your hungry? Snack. Then baths for two stinky kids, books, homework, it
is past the 8:00 pm cut off. I am putting in over time. I don't get the math. How am I supposed to do this! Oh, I get it. Done. No Daughter, go to bed now, I am clocking out. Son, what are you doing
up? We woke you? Okay, good night.
Downstairs, I am rinsing the containers from the lunch boxes and reflecting. I am thankful that
Husband and I decided that I would not return to full time work. In a normal life time, being a full
time teacher and full time mom would be a challenge. I know I would figure it out and muster
through only doing each job at 80 some odd percent. And, the art, my life line, would fall through
the cracks in the railway. But, we would survive. With our reality now, with a body that functions
like I am fifty-seven instead of thirty-seven due to commplications from my surgeries and side-
effects from my drugs, I could not make it in a full time position. Around two o'clock, I want to pass
out. Today, imfact, I fell asleep in the sewing room while my peers were bustling around the wet-
studio. I fell asleep in the car on the way home too. No, silly, I was carpooling with my mom. Over
time, I might build up stamina. My mom's doctor who replaced her ankle a year ago told her she only has so many steps in that ankle. It is up to her how she wants to spend them. Would she rather park
a far distance and walk the parking lot or park in the handicap and save those steps for something
amazing? Husband stated during our conversation about me returning to work now I had cancer, "It
all depends on where you want to spend your precious time." Our reality is my time is shorter than
most of yours. That is our reality. Tonight, after just two full days of being on my feet, I have
confirmed that I physically could not teach all day, five days a week. Oh yes, I miss it emensely.
But, I am more glad to not miss wqtching my kids grow up first hand, even when they are arguing.
Oh, I need to read the poem I wrote them three years ago.
Point of Reflection: Are you doing what you should be doing in your life? Even if what you are doing is a challenge, are you making the best of each moment? Have you heard your calling? Did you choose to listen? Could you do one thing towrds making that change tomorrow? Would you?
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