My day starts like this; wake up, make lunches, spend time with hubby while he gets ready for work knowing that I won’t see him again for 13 hours, encourage son to make his breakfast/eat his breakfast/get dressed/walk the dog/remember his gym clothes or instrument, text carpool, shower, dress, remember what I need for the day (do I need to stop at CVS? buy a birthday gift? call my mother? check in with a friend? go to the grocery store? what about dinner!!??!!), feed the dog, take hubby to the train station, drive carpool and/or drive to the office.  That’s the first hour and a half of my day.

The rest of the day is spent in a whirlwind, alternately thinking about work and home. It’s not easy, but somehow everything gets done – or it doesn’t. For years, I tried to fight the madness, thinking there was a better way.  There’s not. I have learned to embrace the insanity – or I would go crazy trying to fight it.  I used to believe that if I just woke up earlier, I’d have more time. The funny thing is, every time I set the alarm a half hour earlier, I ran late every single time.

Evenings center around homework, dinner, music practice, driving to music lessons, sports practice, games, laundry, cleaning up, and whatever chores need to be done. It is a dance of epic proportions.

Someday I know my life will slow down. There will be a time when my son is old enough to drive himself to school, and eventually (hopefully) away at college and I’ll have time to do things like read books, see movies, and watch something on TV that’s not The Simpsons or the New York Knicks…or, fondly look back on these crazy days and wish that I could relive them all over again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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