Libra Love

The clock keeps ticking. . .one day bleeds into the other. So many moments are filled with celebrations; while others silently break your heart. No real rhyme or reason for the painful days, just an acute awareness that nothing stays the same.  This year keeps rushing forward May, September, October. . .next thing you know the holidays will be upon us and we will be welcoming in 2019. And I actually think, I'll breathe a sigh of relief when the clock strikes midnight and we move on. . .into the new year filled with new opportunities and looking forward to the many lasts that will occur in the spring.

Someone will experience his last semester as a high school student; his last track season; his senior project; trainsitioning with an Independent Living Coordinator, college plans, and graduation. Another will experience his last quarter as an eighth grader. Eager to kiss those junior high walls good-bye; eager to grow taller; eager for a chance to be more and more independent. Sometimes it is him who is not ready. Sometimes it must be me. Time keeps trudging forward. The oldest girl, has high school down now, she knows what to expect, she gets ahead and works hard in her classes without the tears and pressure her Freshman year seemed to force upon her. She sees a driver's license in her future, and I don't know how I feel about that yet. Relieved to have some help with the shuttling around that has consumed us these last four years, or sad that I won't be needed as much. I don't know yet. But our baby love, she sees unicorns and rainbows and breathes out happiness and in joy. Her personality so big and full and loving everything about school and friends.

My new job gives me glimpses into her world. How special it is to have the same recess and her and her friends run up to me with hugs.  Other times, it might just be glimpses through the window as it seems my mom-dar is deep. She is near, I look up and am greeted with a passing glimpse on her way to lunch or PE. Sigh. There has been so much goodness already this school year. So much goodness that has helped ease the hard parts. I went from one job to three, and am juggling more appointments into the calendar spaces but really with that comes some peace. I am a working mama who has control over her schedule, who is only saying yes to the things she loves and who is growing her craft in the process.  It has been good. Very, very good.

Seven

The most beautiful rose given to me by my teenage son.

It has been seven years since I created this space to document the happenings of our life.  It's been over seven months since I have religiously blogged.  So much happens day to day that I've simply forgotten to come back to the place that was to serve as my children's scrapbook. Our published years are so fun to flip through, recounting the many memories we've made. The kids giggle over pictures of themselves and seem fascinated by the itty bitties they once were. There are three teenagers in the house now. Three. Let that sink in for a second. Then of course, the baby. . .who is by no means a baby any more. Our eight-year-old colors our world pretty with pom poms, unicorns, and slime. I really hate the last one. It absolutely blows me away that this is the life I am priviliged to live day in and day out. There are bad days, sad days, fun days, and days I can't even stay awake later than the teenagers, but they are beautiful days nonetheless. Beautiful simply because they are mine.

It boggles my mind that my presence is simply enough to validate my life. I came late to the stay at home mom role. When Lene mentions me working during her elementary years it pains me just a little bit. At that point I had cut my time in half, but I was still missed at some class parties and volunteering in the classroom. The thing is, I totally get it. I remember feeling that same way when it seemed everyone else's mom helped in the classroom BUT mine. I always wanted what I coudn't have and although my grandparents were great substitutes, it never was the same. Some things will never change, I guess.

For four years I've had the privilige of being home with my kids. The older they've gotten, the harder it seems to get. There are three school drop offs, all at different times. The three pick ups get complicated by the sports each of the three plays depending on the season. After school games and homework followed by a family meal across a dinner table makes for a busy, full life. But still, sometimes, my mind goes to that place of not being enough, not contributing enough, not doing enough with the education I received. Sometimes I look at my two Master's Degrees and wonder if they were a waste. Will I ever use them? Will I even be current when the time comes?  I simply have no idea.

I've been on both sides of the spectrum, and to be frank, each offered valuable gifts that I treasure. As a working mother, I impacted countless lives, I socialized with colleagues, I was in constant motion to continue to learn and grow. On the other hand, as a Mom who is home, I impact the lives in which I was called to be a mother, I socialize with other moms at pick up and at church, and I run a very part time business from home where I educate a handful of kids and work with their parents to help them flourish.   Both sides are debateable as to which is more important. Dare I say, both sides are debateable as to which is most valuable. It's time to let the debate die, people.

If I am equally fulfilled being home with my kids as I am working full time as an educator, then so be it. It's my life to live my truth, and it's okay if we see things differently. We were not made to agree on everything; we were made to be kind. Next time you're having a hot debate regarding working moms and stay at home moms, ask yourself if what you are going to say really needs to be said. If it has been said before, save it. Everyone wants their voices heard, but we all have our own stories to tell. Tell yours proudly and with love. Stay home if you want. Work if you want. Or don't. Your story. You write it.