How Lucky

On Friday afternoon, around 1:30 p.m., I texted a few friends the same text:

"This stay-at-home-mom thing is harder than teaching. I need a nap. When is happy hour?"

Today, at 1:30 p.m., I collapsed into my big green chair in the family room just as both boys had gone down for a nap and I thought, "Good grief, 1:30? Where did today go?"

Even teaching has more downtime than this.

I chase, wipe, change, feed, dress, scrub, wash, soothe, pick up, rock, sing, pour, stir, fold, watch, yell (yeah, I yell), scold, help, bake, rush, clean...and repeat...non-stop.

And now here I sit.


I crossed that out because it became a non-truth. Reid woke up as I typed that sentence, and an hour later Will was up, and we were off to the library and here I sit again at 4:00, although I'm surrounded by The Wiggles and iPad games and I think Reid may have a dirty diaper.

But I'm persevering.

And this post suddenly needs to be about something else, because downtime is certainly not it.

At gymnastics class this morning, and again at the library, I had some thoughts, and they can basically be summarized by this:

How lucky are my kids? How lucky are the kids of the moms who are reading this blog? Think about it: they get to run around on play equipment, and play games on cool technology, and have moms who take them to the library and help them pick out new movies and books.

Not only that, our kids have parents who just this past weekend alone took them swimming, rented bounce houses for their birthdays, picked strawberries at a farm, spent time on the beach, and taught them how to ride a bike (thank you Facebook for allowing me to collect data so quickly).

When they wear out a pair of shoes, we go and we buy them a new pair.

When one day care provider doesn't work, we spend hours researching and interviewing new ones.

When they beg to have pizza for dinner every single night, we keep their health in mind and only give in one out of, oh, ten times.

A wise Hindu teacher told me when Will was born that when a soul chooses to be born to parents in America, it's like picking Heaven on Earth.

I'll smile at this as Will continues to watch Mickey Mouse Club House...on YouTube...on the iPad...in Russian.

I'll continue to smile as I pick up Reid and chase, wipe, change, feed, dress, scrub, wash, soothe, pick up, rock, sing, pour, stir, fold, watch, yell, scold, help, bake, rush, clean, and start dinner...

...lucky kids.

Luckier moms.