After three solid months of pure, hardcore motherhood, the day has finally come for me to hand the baton off to a group of women who have stepped forward to tend to my children for part of every day. I love these women. They are my personal heroes.
Lest I sound like a heartless mom that doesn’t love her children, that couldn’t be furthest from the truth. Of course I love them. I’m just sick of them. The feeling is mutual. They are sick of me too. They are starving for interaction with people outside of their immediate family just as much as I am starving for solitude. It’s win, win!
I have to assume that parents who choose to home school have a way better network of fellow moms and playmates for their kids than I do; otherwise, I just can’t comprehend how they do it. We all have our gifts, I guess, and patience isn’t one of mine. The thousandth time the cushions are thrown from the couch, the refrigerator door is left open, and the legos are strewn across the floor sends me over the edge. I’m flawed, what can I say?
With this much needed break from family bonding time, comes the double edged sword of personal freedom. Once the excuses are gone, I either get things accomplished or face a lazy slug with no ambition in the mirror. I don’t want to be a lazy slug with no ambition! (Or a crack whore.) I want to be an accomplisher!
I talked about this very thing when I gave up my steady income. Fortunately for my self esteem, I have gotten some things done this summer that I am proud of:
Now that the kids are going back to school, though, the ante is officially upped. No more excuses.
I like to throw things.