Another Thursday night
What is it I’m doing at 9:30 on a Thursday night you asked? Why, I’m vacuuming my couch of course.
As we embark on this uncharted territory of parenthood in a situation that was probably the farthest from our minds.
I have three kids, in three different schools, with three different learning schedules. A mix of virtual and in person learning. I’m a single, full-time working mom. I’m going to fuck up at times. It’s inevitable.
We’ll all be doing our very best, each day.
I’ll admit, I’m a little cranky sometimes . I’m tired. Life moves too fast, yet not fast enough in other ways.
On a given Sunday summer afternoon – I’m sitting here in the sand. I optimistically brought a magazine with me to read. As I’m staring at the words, I have two children simultaneously telling me something. Focusing…on nothing.
Way back in the beginning of quarantine I started writing again. Reflecting back a year ago, and then just six months ago, I really dreaded when my kids left to go see their dad. That dreaded Thursday night.
If you haven’t read about it, or want to revisit:
I can’t even begin to tell you how It affected me, leading into every Thursday; by Wednesday morning I already felt sick over it.
All sorts of friends would tell me how nice it sounded. I’ll admit, when I was married, I would’ve said the same exact thing if I heard the same struggle. Looking for excuses to escape my reality.
But there I was, dreading being alone when not that long ago – I would’ve given anything to have some alone time.
I caught myself off guard the other day, I found myself fantasizing about my weekend without my kids. I stopped myself dead in my own though tracks “holy crap, I’ve made it to the other side”.
So here I am, about to embark on a weekend without the kids, and I’m excited about it. That took a little over a year. So if you’re reading this, and anything at all like me, you’ll get there.
So…I’ve reached the next chapter. Now what?