Four days into the school year, and I’m still struggling to find a routine that lets me fit 4 hours of housework, 2 1/2 hours of errands, 3 hours of novel-writing, 2 hours of email and another 2 hours on the blog, and 10 minutes of personal time… all into the span of a 7-hour school day. So far, I’ve had to resort to going to bed before my husband and waking up before him, a practice which can eventually take its toll on a marriage.

I do have to admit that it’s nice being bathed, dressed and made-up this early in the morning. Before the Big-Eyed Boy started kindergarten, I was lucky to have brushed my teeth by lunchtime and considered it a “productive” day if I managed to squeeze in a bath before the Venomous Hubby came home. This week, I’ve even managed to take care of a few errands that I’d been meaning to get around to for, oh, the past couple of months. Shopping without a cranky kid in tow is so much more enjoyable!

But there have been times this past week when I’ve caught myself thinking how hectic the days are now, and then that heavy sense of finality settles on my shoulders as I realize: it’s going to be like this for another thirteen years. I’ll be over 50 by the time my son’s schedule stops taking precedence over my own! What was I thinking, having another child in my mid-30s???

Then, when I’m making his lunch while he watches cartoons at the breakfast table, his cowlick resembling Alfalfa’s and the smile on his face looking so very much like my husband’s, then I am so grateful to be starting my day doing all of these motherly things. It feels good. It feels right: so much richer and more rewarding than mornings when I merely wake up to shuffle between my chores and computer.

As we hold hands and walk into his classroom, my Big-Eyed Boy shuffles off to sit at his desk next to his new friends. He barely notices when I kiss the top of his head before leaving to head home where I’ll pick up his toys, do his laundry, clean up the breakfast crumbs on the table. By the time I’m in the parking lot, I am the furthest thing from his mind and yet, throughout my day, he does not leave my thoughts for a moment. Those are the times I find myself praying these thirteen years go so much more slowly than the last five.

Friday, August 19th, 2005, 8:59 am   |   My Venomous Life  |  RSS feed Comments and pings are currently closed.