Still a Mom

My mom often said, “Don’t wish your life away.” She said when she was 12 she wished she was 16. When she was 16 she wished she was 18. When she was 18 she wished she was 21. You get the idea. It was good advice. Even in the 70’s she understood what being mindful meant. She got cancer when she was 40. I was 12.

This journey called life goes in directions that we don’t plan despite our best efforts. When the rug is yanked out from under you, everything on top does not stay in place like the magician who pulls the table cloth out from under the china and crystal. Your shit breaks. You are forced to start over. You treasure the pieces that were somehow spared.

This blog is not going in the direction that I had intended. I had a really funny idea that is not materializing right now. I am ok with that. I do have a point, though, and I will eventually get there. I never post a first draft anyway. I write, let it sit, read, edit, repeat. I do this more than a few times. Am I a perfectionist? No. I read a really good book called Perfect. Am I insecure? Maybe.

Starting a blog was just a distraction from tackling the project of writing a play that has been in my head for about 12 years. I know Jeff Daniels would love it and beg me to let him produce it if I could only write it. Am I arrogant? Absolutely not. Sarcastic? Yes. Really though, in my wildest dreams I would just like to finish the damn play. It was just for me anyway.

I now have all the time in the world to write. I have been fortunate since our kids were born to organize my life around them. I’ve had many part time jobs and volunteer ops. Our sacrifice of making our kids’ lives wonderful has paid off. They are as prepared for adulthood as they could ever be. My daughter and son are 8.5 hours away. (I know you are thinking, “all right already, this is like the 3^rd blog you have whined about that”)

I don’t have kids anymore. I have adults. I recently booked a vacation online. When the website instructed me to type the ages of the kids I got bumped out. My family now consists of 4 adults.  Last week, I couldn’t help but feel like I got bumped out once again. I cried most of the way home after we moved our kids into their temporary addresses for the school year.

My friends who work full time correct me, remind me that I do NOT want to get a job. I want something. I can’t say I am a stay-at-home-mom anymore.  I’d be embarrassed to tell people the ages of my babies. It is a blessing and a curse. I can do whatever I want. The last 22 years were a no-brainer for me. I did diapers, preschool, grade school, dance, soccer, hockey, gymnastics, pom and so much more. I DID learn from my mom. I lived it. I loved it. I wouldn’t change a minute of it. Breast cancer did not kill me before my kids graduated from high school as it did my mom.  I am so very thankful for that.

This week, I just can’t help but feel like I was just fired from a job that I loved. After a few days of unanswered text messages I finally got desperate. I sent my son a text message that read, “I changed your poopy diapers. Throw me a f***ing bone here. I’m dying.”

Guess what? He needed me. He was a little bored and a little worried about liking his new living arrangements. Luckily he said his sister, who is a 5^th year senior there, was being great. It was a win, win. He is okay and he is prepared. I am going to take full credit for that.

 P.S. Tomorrow I am tagging along with my husband on a business trip. Tonight I started out writing a funny post about a rumor in southern Illinois that I don’t actually exist. This post is a good example that you never know where things are headed. Apparently, I needed to get this one out. Stay tuned!

P.P.S: As I proofread once again this morning, I had to edit. I am not a breast cancer survivor. My mom died of breast cancer before we graduated from high school.