I’m once again linking up to my friend Jana’s blog. Our task? Set a timer and write for five minutes without editing or censoring. Our topic? I don’t understand…
I don’t understand how I have two little boys all of a sudden. I mean, I know how I got kids. It’s a timeless tale of doctors and stirrups and no shame. But what I mean is that I don’t understand how my babies are now big kids.
This weekend they started T-ball. My sons can now hold a bat. In fact, they own bats and regulation t-balls. We spent the whole afternoon after practice getting geared up. Thank God they didn’t have to buy cups.
These boys also have super hero sheets and a real Star Wars love. They can roam the playground with me at a greater distance. I still hover, but it’s with less anxiety and stress.
Friday night we had dinner with our group of friends and their kids. We set the kids at one table, and we grown-ups took the other. We are finally getting to the point where the kids can play, and we can actually have a conversation or play cards with few interruptions.
But still, I don’t really understand how this happened. It boggles the mind.
In case you missed my 256 announcements yesterday, I’m guest writing on Quirk Books in their Raising Quirk Community. I’d love for you to go over and take a look and maybe leave a comment.
When I get a case of the Mondays, it’s a bit different than the kind an office worker gets. It’s me screeching away from the boys’ school after drop-off like I’m leaving the scene of a crime. Even a stop at the grocery store is less annoying. I get my list items and some fresh bread to celebrate. Then I get home and run a victory lap in a quiet house.
Don’t get me wrong; I love our weekends. We hang around the house in jammies, and we play. But there’s just something so great about having the house to yourself. No one is here to tell me ‘no’. No one is here to silently judge me for propping my feet up in front of HGTV as dirty clothes threaten to smother us. (Okay, truth. Michael doesn’t care if I watch TV instead of clean. When he gets tired of the filth, he gently asks if I can get to it ‘sometime this week’. The silent judgement I assign to him is my projection. I feel guilty when I sit down. I feel I do not deserve a break from doing bare minimum. In other words, my brain does special Stephanie-thinking.)
After Monday, my second favorite day of the week is Stay At Home Mommy Day. This is the one school day a week I keep the boys home. It’s usually Thursday, but sometimes we wake up, and a rainy Tuesday is just the perfect day to stay inside. I love being able to keep them home when either they or I feel like it. I will miss these days when they go to kindergarten, and I go back to work. I actually get chores done because they play with such gusto. They are free to do as they please, and they know it. They do not waste a minute. They can play one thing all morning. And of course they invite me along.
No school? Let’s get after some hanger art in our jammies.
One of our favorite games on Stay At Home Mommy Days is bear family. We all pretend to be bears, and my bedroom is our cave. As bears, we fish, gather honey, and take naps. Yes, being a carnivorous beast is exhausting, even if you’re on the small side. The naps are only pretend, but I enjoy the chance to cuddle under the blankets with my sweet boys. I often get roped into telling stories during bear naps. Then the boys will tell some. It’s pretty great.
These Stay At Home Mommy Days are my special reward. I seem to be able to enjoy the boys and who they are becoming while also getting things done around the house. They are the days I hoped to have when I pictured being a stay-at-home-mother. I will never regret this time with my sons, and I hope they remember that Mommy was not all work and no play.