Love More, Judge Less
My youngest son started Kindergarten five weeks ago. He was one month away from his fifth birthday—a peanut in my book—and separating from us at drop-off time was difficult. Most mornings, he cried. And, my older son, his big brother, started putting his arm around the back of his neck and lovingly guiding him in
I have to come to realize that we all have some type of madness lurking in our homes now, and am learning to just laugh about the insanity of it all So, here is what life is like in my house. Hopefully, you can relate.
You will make new friends. You will learn new things. You will listen to new stories. You will create. You will recite all the letters and count all the numbers. You will eat lunch in a gigantic cafeteria. You will play on the play scape at recess. You will laugh. You will cry. But most of all, you will be okay. And, so will I.
…a funny thing happens as you get older (besides hangovers becoming more painful): you start to prioritize things differently.
In fact, I find that most Mondays I return to work more exhausted than when I left on Friday. Sure, part of it is that we are trying to cram too much fun into each weekend, but another part of it is simply that “relaxing” activities of my carefree, childless days now require significantly more energy and work in order to be successful (or survive).
I made a list of traditional day/weekend activities that I enjoyed as a kid for us to do this summer, but after all the money that I spent to send my kids to camp plus our summer vacation, I had to find ways to make those activities as affordable as possible. This is my list.
And so, with each moment that I long to live again or live for a little longer, I also yearn to experience what will be … all that has yet to come. And, while I may hold on to every last for as long as I possibly can, I am also embracing every new first.
I quickly lose sight of the fact that she is only 4 and a half. I’ll be the first to admit that I have become complacent. I leave her to her own devices at times. Especially when I am trying to run a house by myself. She is also painfully independent (see aforementioned slamming of bedroom door). I trust her not to put peas up her nose or to eat crayons. I am far too trusting.
Last night, as I was cooking dinner, my mind wandered onto thoughts of my grandmother as it often does. I started thinking about how full her life has been. She worked. She owned a business. She raised a family. She is an amazing friend. She was involved in politics. She served the town in various capacities, etc., and yet, at the end of every day, the thing that she feels pressed to do is cook dinner for “the kids.”
In order to keep myself awake I’ve been compiling list of things “to do” when no one else in the world seems awake. Simply getting up and turning on the light does not work anymore (plus who would want to wake up my darling husband).
