Trying to balance my kids' overactive social calendar with my own need for professional time is exausting. I doubt anyone ever does this perfectly well, and even if they're the mom extraordinaire - I bet they're hiding some flaw somewhere... Egads, there just isn't enough time in the day for all of this.
I have an article to write, a fiction submission that needs editing, and a laundry list of other writing assignments that need my attention....... but I also have a four year old dumping all the game pieces from the cabinet into one large pile on the table, a daughter's birthday party that enticed 25 eight year olds to my house, and a six year old with more party and playdates than I could possibly account for................ plus, you know, dinners, baths, schoolwork, and..... oh, I don't know, breathing time.
That's it for my rant for today.................... I didn't know what else to write, so I thought I'd complain.......... if you're stopping for the first time, hopefully my other entries will be more entertaining.........................
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
The Journey of a Gym Shoe
Looking at my daughter's tattered gym shoes, laying in the front hall entranceway, minding their own business; I wonder over the condition of their wear.
Laces tattered at the ends, gray and dark spots running throughout and quite pathetic to behold. A clear rip forming at the toe of a once immaculate white surface, now muddied and soiled. Poor young shoes. How can this be the fate of items purchased such a short time ago?
Two months. Two months to my adult gaze passes in an instant. Not enough time to balance the checkbook, keep every appointment; school committees, work obligations, countless dinners to prepare. Two months of vacuuming the carpet, driving the carpool, and reading the same bedtime story that runs through my dreams unbidden from repitition. Two months to put off things for lack of time, and wish for more than the measely twenty four hours we're alotted a day.
TWO MONTHS!!! Two months to a child is eternity to wait for; a Christmas morning that takes forever to arrive. Enough time to scale a small builing, or at least the neighbor's fence. Two months of fun playdates, lunch friends and recess, and at least three or more chances to kick the boy down the block in the shins. Two months full of running, and lessons and school books, of new fall colors that last just forever when waiting so patiently to say, 'trick or treat'! Two months takes forever to pass to an eight year old. Waiting to be the one in charge and eat all the cake or not do my homework - well, lucky parents, they make all the rules, and I have to listen with a pout and a sigh.
Laces tattered at the ends, gray and dark spots running throughout and quite pathetic to behold. A clear rip forming at the toe of a once immaculate white surface, now muddied and soiled. Poor young shoes. How can this be the fate of items purchased such a short time ago?
Two months. Two months to my adult gaze passes in an instant. Not enough time to balance the checkbook, keep every appointment; school committees, work obligations, countless dinners to prepare. Two months of vacuuming the carpet, driving the carpool, and reading the same bedtime story that runs through my dreams unbidden from repitition. Two months to put off things for lack of time, and wish for more than the measely twenty four hours we're alotted a day.
TWO MONTHS!!! Two months to a child is eternity to wait for; a Christmas morning that takes forever to arrive. Enough time to scale a small builing, or at least the neighbor's fence. Two months of fun playdates, lunch friends and recess, and at least three or more chances to kick the boy down the block in the shins. Two months full of running, and lessons and school books, of new fall colors that last just forever when waiting so patiently to say, 'trick or treat'! Two months takes forever to pass to an eight year old. Waiting to be the one in charge and eat all the cake or not do my homework - well, lucky parents, they make all the rules, and I have to listen with a pout and a sigh.
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