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…
- 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.
- 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.
- Cooking meals that I know my husband and I will like, without 3 alternative sides or the ever popular “buttered noodles”.
- 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.
- 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?