Monday, April 27, 2015

I'm ready (pre-emptive August thoughts after 11.5 years of stay-at-home mothering)

I willingly stayed home with my children for the first five years of each of their lives, a decision that I do not regret.  Still, after over a decade, I am ready for the next stage.

I'm ready to not frantically squeeze in exercise, volunteering, errands and me-time in a 6-hour window per week from Sep-May.

I'm ready to be able to write during the daylight hours without interruption or bribing my kid with video game time.  (The fact that I have composed and published as much coherent stuff as I've done is miraculous.)

I'm ready to make professional phone calls without the worry that the Xbox timer will run out and the person on the line will hear endless screams of "MOM!  MOM!  MOM!" in the midst of our discussion.

I'm ready for a 5-minute errand at the grocery to actually be a 5-minute errand and not a 45-minute traipsing through the aisles being badgered into "just one" nasty processed piece of junk.

I'm ready to get my butt to the gym without any more coercion than what I need to get my own physical self out the door.

I'm ready to be able to browse Target sections that I like rather than reading a book in every toy aisle.  (Seriously, they need to put benches at every end-cap.)

I'm ready to only get food for myself during the day and not have to cater to the Hobbit meal plan of post-breakfast snack, lunch, and post-lunch snack.

I'm ready to not pack 30 lbs of food and drinks for every jaunt outside the house Monday through Friday (per the Hobbit diet).

I'm ready to be able to finish books in less than 3 weeks because I can read uninterrupted while waiting after my allergy shot.

I'm ready to only take care of my waste removal processes during the day.

I'm ready to finish a number of projects that have been in limbo for 11 years.

I'm ready to have occasional lunch dates with my husband and friends.

I'm ready to take a nap after lunch without falling asleep to the sound of Uncle Grandpa and being awoken by the Hobbit's demands for food.

For many years, I fretted over the time when my children wouldn't be young, thinking I wouldn't be needed.  I am 41 years old and still call on my own parents regularly to ask questions or favors.

I am ready for my children to need me in a different way.  

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