The Sweet Spot
The changing landscape of my family has been hard on me. I am the sort of person who roots herself into home and routine and the usualness of life. For fourteen years, I was the stay at home and my primary task was caring for our little children. It was a role I relished, loved and adored. Before Baby Bee went to Kindergarten I spoke about how I was being promoted, but the problem was, I loved my current role. That was true then and it still is true now. I think I will look back on my decade and a half of taking care of little children as the best times of my life, despite the slings and arrows life shot at us.
Baby Bee’s first year of full time school was a time of transition for me. It was bittersweet as I tried to resettled into a daytime routine that didn’t include snacks or naps or preschool daytime TV. I came to terms with the idea that I would no longer have my finger on the pulse of what was “in” for the 5 and under set and that whole phenomenons would come and go without me noticing or caring.
But, this isn’t supposed to be sad or melancholy.
Something happened last weekend. Big Daddy was out of town and the girls had the day off of school for the end of the marking period. I’d gone to conferences the day before and got fairly good news about Baby Bee (and, rejoiced in her teacher understanding her need for space and movement “Sometimes, she gets up and walks around the classroom and then sits back down and works hard for me and I’m find with that.”). I come home and collected the girls we went out for the day. We had some errands to run. It was ordinary, but in that moment, I saw my family for what it had become and what it was becoming.
No one had the gimmies.
No one whined about the lines at Costco or the cutting line at Joann’s. People debated, rationally, about the merits about where to get dinner. When a decision was made, no one fussed. People ordered their own food. They waited quietly and patiently. We sang along with the radio an cracked jokes and there it was.
It happened again Sunday, when we went out with Big Daddy. A quiet breakfast. Talking. Laughing. Everyone ordering for themselves politely. An impromptu trip to the playground. It just all fell into line and I saw it. My family was growing up and it wasn’t the least bit sad. It was marvelous. It was glorious and fun and relaxed. I enjoyed a meal. I enjoyed the time at the playground. We had a small disappointment in the evening about an event we didn’t attend and no one cried. No one freaked out. Everyone accepted the situation and we moved on.
They are growing up and it’s okay. It’s not just okay, it’s good and even though my job has changed since my promotion has gone through, my job is still good. Life moves in seasons, but sometimes I am slow to accept them. They sneak up on me or else I’m holding on, with dear life, to what once was. I feel so lucky to get these glimpses of the things that will be in the seasons to come.