Lately, I'm really in The Zone. In case you are unaware, The Zone is when you come to a time in the life of your child/kids and you no longer have to be Supermom, with bionic hearing and lightening quick reflexes. You loose the bulge in your biceps you got from constantly carrying a child around and the olfactory glands that once allowed you to distinguish your own kids poop from everyone else's kids at Disneyland shrinks back to it's normal function. You start to think about wearing white pants again. That's where I am. The Zone.
Anywho, you'd think I'd be thrilled to be here. After all, The Zone also means that you can remain parked on you butt, Diet Coke in hand at the beach while all your friends with toddlers, chase, wipe, comfort, pick-up, dig, change, rinse, adjust, follow, nurse and brush the sand off their kids. Me? I just bellow at the boy every now and then to make sure he stays in my sights. It's a wonderful thing. You'd think I'd be thrilled to be here.
But I'm not. Nope. I want a baby. I miss babyland. I wish I could go back in time and spend just one day with Thom as a one-year-old. In between the running around and supermom work, there are moments of pure joy. I want that again.