I’m ready to be finished with this whole “out of the home working” gig. I have no idea how mothers do this every day, forever. I don’t know if it’s because it’s an evening/night job, or because it eats my time while I’m still expected to do everything else, or because I miss my family, or maybe it’s just the lack of sleep…

Each weekday is a whirlwind as I cram in all of my normal activities (getting everyone ready for school/work, gym, write, edit, blog, laundry, clean, errands, groceries, bus stop, homework, spend a tiny bit of time with family, eat)  before I run out the door by 5:15, fight rush hour traffic, stare at a computer until my eyes glaze over and I give up all hope for the educational system in this country, drive home, and finally collapse into bed. And even though I’m exhausted, I usually need the help of  melatonin to actually fall sleep because I’m so jacked up on all the iced coffee and candy I’ve practically mainlined to stay awake.

And while I do love the satisfaction of actually earning money again and seeing my name on a  paycheck (as little as it may be) I am relieved it is only a temporary position.

I miss my boys.

While this schedule works better for juggling  writing and family management responsibilities, I’m missing the best time of day, the important times of day, with my husband and son.

I’m missing wine-thirty, the couple time Hubby and I spend together in the kitchen each evening.  While I cook dinner, he makes the next days lunches. We talk about our hectic/productive/good/bad days, catch up with each other, and yes, enjoy a glass of wine. It’s our quiet time, a chance for us to push aside our busy days and reconnect.  It’s our therapy,  and I can feel how both of us have more stress buzzing like an electric current through our nerves without this daily release.

I’m missing family dinners.  Yes, we normally eat dinner together every night at home.  When the weather is lovely (as it has been lately) we dine on our porch, our own little alfresco restaurant.  The pool sounds like a tranquil fountain,  some Jack Johnson, Coldplay, or John Mayer trickles out of the ipod, and we talk. It’s the time of day when Kiddo may finally volunteer some random information about his day, (because you know when I ask how his day went earlier, all I got was a “fine”), when he allows an “Oh, and I’m in the county art show,” or “And when I was sent to the vice principal’s office today…” Time we need to connect.

so little

so big

I’m missing Kiddo’s bedtime. Getting him down hasn’t been an issue for many years, so bedtime isn’t dreaded around here. We snuggle up and read for a half-hour or so. It used to be all me reading to him, but now he reads to me.  Sometimes we trade off, depending on the difficulty of the book.  Lately, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets just sits forgotten on his nightstand. Last night I picked one of our old favorites, Stellaluna. The waves of nostalgia fluttered over me soft as baby bat wings as he curled up beside me. I tried to read it all to him, though I still know most of the words by heart, but he insisted on reading half of it to me.

my shoe vs. 8-yr-old’s shoe

 So big, so fast.  Hot pricks of tears sting my eyes when I realize how little time like this I have left. He’ll be nine in the fall. Nine. Boys don’t want to snuggle with their moms much older than that, do they?  Yesterday I passed along a pair of my water shoes to him.  I haven’t been able to find any in his size.  They were a men’s size small and big big on him, but not by much, a finger width, a pinky toe length.

 I hate missing one night with him, one second that he still wants to spend with me.  I see the sand in our hourglass funneling down at a breathtaking speed.

And, of course I miss quite time with my Hubby after Kiddo is in bed. Being the quiet old farts that we are, we just read (and good God, I miss reading), while the TV mostly provides some subtle background noise. But we are together, beside each other, there for each other. Connected.

I’ll admit, I’ve been taking my Hubby for granted, giving what little time and attention I have to Kiddo. I shouldn’t, I know, but I’m greedy for any moments I can get with my son. I watch him drawing closer to his own independent world, a world without me, and I’m afraid of missing any special moment I can get.  I know my Hubby will always be there for me, right?  I’ve got another 50 years with him, but my son…damn, it makes me weepy just thinking about it, and I’m not a weepy kind of girl…

And then there’s the guilt factor.  Kiddo  hugs me a dozen times before I leave, chases me out to the car with kisses, asks why I have to leave them and go off to a silly old job anyway.  Stay home with us, he pleads, his eyes all puppy dog, his lower lip out pouting, begging.  Please don’t leave me.  Just yank on those heart strings a little more, Kiddo. I can’t tell him the only reason I took this job is because of him. Well, his very expensive mouth, that is. Days before this position opened up we were informed that he’d need round two of braces and oral surgery this summer, another round NOT covered by our dental insurance. {sigh} I’m being proactive, taking care of my family, right? I will not lay that guilt at his rapidly growing feet. Instead, each day I must placate him with more of the many white lies we parents must tell.

Less than three weeks left. I can do it. We can do it.