Some days, I think of only having two children, these two specific children, and my breath catches with just how wrong it seems. And I think with absolute certainty that there must be three. I know that having three is the absolute number one most important right thing.
But some days I become almost obsessed with how bad I am at this job. I give myself a terrible performance review in my mind over and over again and I think that anyone who is this bad at something and who would choose to make it harder and to add more and to keep doing it must be absolutely certifiably insane.
I take the quiz in the New York Times Magazine about enjoying parenting, the one that says that women like parenting more than men. The only activity I give a full score of 5 to is “shopping for children.” Erik scores much higher than I do.
Some days I realize that I can either spend all day cleaning my house or I can shower or I can make sure everyone eats three good healthy meals, but on no day will I be able to do all three of these things, and no matter what, I’m just going to have to wake up and do it all over again the next day.
Lately, I’ve been thinking that there are some things I’d like to do. I’d like to go back to school and become a librarian. I’d like to raft down the Grand Canyon. I’d like to see the pyramids. I’d like to move somewhere for a year where all we do, every day, is surf. I’d like to eat dinner in the Blue Bayou. I’d like to run an under two hour half marathon. I’d like to run a Double Dipsea, even though people have told me “it’s very hard.”
Remember when awhile back, I said that I felt like someone was not here yet? As though someone was missing? In spite of how hard all this is and the lack of showers and the very bad job I often feel that I’m doing, in spite of all that, I do still feel as though someone is missing, like not everyone is here.
But lately sometimes I wonder if maybe, just maybe, that missing person is ME.
Filed under: Uncategorized |