Friday morning I woke up to a home without boys - Jarod had taken off to work and Aiden and Tristen had spent the night at their cousin's house. The day before Aiden had a slight fever and just wanted to lay in my bed and cuddle, which is a very rare thing for that boy. I gave him some medicine for the fever and thought nothing of it. My brother said he didn't mind if Aiden came over with a bit of a cold so I agreed to bring them over.
The house was eerily quiet. I'm use to a very talkative four-year-old and the babbles, that I can 95% of the time make out into real, authentic words, of a two-year-old filling my ears at all times. I got Ali out of her crib and cuddled and held her more than I would on an average day. The house was an absolute mess because I was too tired the night before and figured that I could easily get it all done without the incessant demands and needs of my two little boys but then the mess and the redundancy of my every day life annoyed me.
I'm so tired. I should be doing more with my life.
There's an almost tangible battle within myself that yearns for a life of professionalism and career-climbing. Of a life in which work is immediately exchanged for valued currency. Of which time belongs, although to my employer but, simultaneously my own. A life in which peeing in the bathroom and changing one's clothes in privacy can easily force an overwhelming sense of guilt and the incessant urgency to fix things (whatever they may be) immediately mid-stream when one child is crying.
Also, a life in which people don't belittle, unintentionally or not, your life because it's a simpler path. A simpler dream.
Conversely, the very thought of leaving my children alone with a daycare provider and even my own mother in exchange for 40-hour weeks and dry-clean clothes aches my heart to no end. I will no longer be there for those first; they'll belong in someone elses' memory and in some other time and place of which would be lost from me forever. I wouldn't know the odd quirks of my children so deeply. That "chicken" actually means "tuck-in" to Tristen. That Ali will scream her head off at times because her little heart just desires some Cheerios (seriously, she's nuts - definitely not my daughter :) Nor would I know how much of a freak, utter clean-freak, Aiden is (the kid loves flossing his teeth - anyone else think that's weird??).
I love being with them and sharing all of our moments together but there are definitely times that I think about being somewhere else. Maybe just for a bit to regain a part of myself that isn't defined by three little things that came out of my uterus, a part of myself that's always been there but has been pushed willingly, and other days grudgingly, aside.
TO BE CONTINUED . . .