I spend almost all my day caring for my kids or thinking of how I’ll care for my kids when I get home from work.  I am completely dedicated and I love being a mom

But my momfession?

I let myself fantasize about what my life will be like when I am not on 24/7 clean-up/entertain/food prep/fix/read…duty.  I know mothering never stops, but I think building towers made out of blocks does.  I know I’ll never stop worrying, but I think there is a point in time when I stop being invited to “check out” their poop (EVERY TIME).  I know I’ll be sad when these stages are over, but I think I’ll also be ok to leave some things behind.

So sometimes when I am crashing matchbox cars (while of course having my form corrected) or reading my hundredth Fancy Nancy book I find myself fantasizing about…

1. Going to the gym for an unlimited amount of time doing whatever class I want to and sweating so bad that I am still wet when I come home.  My 30 minute basement routines are keeping me from blowing up, but not much else.
2. Getting to work when I want to in order to prepare myself and feel great about an organized day.  I’d also be open to just being able to casually stroll into the building rather than a slightly frantic speed walk.  
3. Cooking meals that I know my husband and I will like, without 3 alternative sides or the ever popular “buttered noodles”.
4. Quiet.  Do I really have to explain?  Last summer I got in this fantasy of being a real gardener.  We do what we can at my house and I even started to plant a few vegetables.  I went as far as telling myself that this would be a great hobby, when the house is “quiet.”  You know..during retirement.
5. The ability not to care.  Really I fantasize about apathy.  Since everything I do is intertwined or completely decided by my kids I sometimes wander down the road of, “Remember when no one mattered but me?”  I could stay out late, do my work during daylight, go for a run whenever I felt like and more.  This year I have cancelled doctor appointments, said no to trips and missed work all because I care so much for my kids.  Let’s be honest, sometimes it’s nice not caring at all.

So while there is not a day that goes by that I don’t appreciate what I have,  I also allow myself this one luxury.  Pretending I am someone else (or rather my old self) for just minutes a day sometimes gets me through that dreaded 4 o’clock hour.  Having hope that my life will one day be more determined by some selfish wants is enough get through a toddler meltdown.  Heck these fantasies seem so promising it makes me think I am down for a third, if it’s going to be awhile anyway then why not add to the fun?