Sometimes I wish my routine was a dancing routine with Fred Astaire, and I am Ginger Rogers!!!
Reality check, Terri. It is not 1936 and you are NOT Ginger Rogers...in "Swing Time."
WHY!?!?!?!?!!!!!!
I find myself asking this question a lot lately.
This is MY routine:
Wake up. Feed the kids. Do the dishes. Clean the house. blah, blah, blah.
Where are the rewards? I guess some would argue that the reward is your children, although sometimes I fail to see that as a reward. ( you must understand that sometimes as a Mother, you DO feel burdened by them, though it's not all the time and you don't love them any less... yes this is a disclosure!) Shouldn't dancing in "Swing Time" with Fred be a part of that routine? C'mon, man. It'd be cool.
I was thinking the other day about the routine that I used to have when I was single and without little ones and a partner to take care of. My routine was simple. I would get up, take a shower, go to work, come home, hang out with Traci my sister that I used to be roommates with, and then maybe go out for drinks with friends, or just hang out by myself.
Oh but how life has changed.
I no longer have the freedom to just go do whatever it is that I want at my heart's desire. There is like this "clearance" sort of phase that I must go through in order to prepare to do anything. You see, the difference between being alone without anyone else to care for, and being responsible for children and a relationship, you have to "plan" things. Now, I've NEVER been one for planning. I have always been the "fly by the seat of my pants kinda gal."
But now, even if I want to go to the store, there is much planning involved. The "just-in-cases." Just in case the baby needs a diaper change in the middle of grocery shopping. -Take the diaper bag. Are there any diapers and wipes in the diaper bag? Then, there's the all puzzeling question. "WHERE THE HELL is THE DIAPER BAG???" Oh. And "where the hell are my keys?" That's one I have been struggling with ever since getting pregnant with Willow. I think Motherhood makes you lose a lot of your faculities.
Never before have I lost things more, than since I've been a Mother. What the hell's that all about? God must have a sense of humor, even if it is seemingly cruel to me. He's probably laughing everytime I forget something and have to turn the car around to go home and get it.
Even if I can't be Ginger Rogers in "Swing Time," I still have my girls and that's more than good enough for me.
