"Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; but remember that what you now have was once among the things only hoped for. "
~Epicurus ~
Before they were born, I used to lay in bed dreaming of my babies.
Motherhood alluded me.
For years I had no babies. Only work.
I sold books. I was the storytime lady. I wore stylish glasses. I went to fancy dinners with famous authors.
I sat demurly in my seat and listened to industry talk. I really wanted to be home bathing tiny bodies and reading to my own. I laid my hands in my lap and focused on the ache of my empty arms. People argued over what children really want these days. Coffee cups were refilled. First editions were signed.
There aren't many fancy dinners these days. Placemats are optional.
My manicures only last a day at the most. I find boogers on my couch and Legos in my shoes.
Sometimes I get to go to out without my children and eat on china and use fabric napkins. Not very often.
But when I go to those dinners, I want to talk about what people really want these days. And I want to be the person signing the first edition. And refill my drink please, because I've got a lot to say.
I really want it all right now.
Motherhood, a successful business, a clean house and trimmed yard. I want time to create. I want time to make dinner for my family. I want time to go to the gym. I want to travel and learn a new language.
Everything. I want it.
And it's a painful realization that I can't have it. Surely I realized this before?
You'd think. But no.
Sometimes I'm very childish.
So it's come down to this.
I can't have it all. Okay.
Can I have it little by little? If I focus on what my heart tells me is most important, can I still have a little of everything else?
And can someone please come over and clean the boogers off my couch?
~Epicurus ~
Before they were born, I used to lay in bed dreaming of my babies.
Motherhood alluded me.
For years I had no babies. Only work.
I sold books. I was the storytime lady. I wore stylish glasses. I went to fancy dinners with famous authors.
I sat demurly in my seat and listened to industry talk. I really wanted to be home bathing tiny bodies and reading to my own. I laid my hands in my lap and focused on the ache of my empty arms. People argued over what children really want these days. Coffee cups were refilled. First editions were signed.
There aren't many fancy dinners these days. Placemats are optional.
My manicures only last a day at the most. I find boogers on my couch and Legos in my shoes.
Sometimes I get to go to out without my children and eat on china and use fabric napkins. Not very often.
But when I go to those dinners, I want to talk about what people really want these days. And I want to be the person signing the first edition. And refill my drink please, because I've got a lot to say.
I really want it all right now.
Motherhood, a successful business, a clean house and trimmed yard. I want time to create. I want time to make dinner for my family. I want time to go to the gym. I want to travel and learn a new language.
Everything. I want it.
And it's a painful realization that I can't have it. Surely I realized this before?
You'd think. But no.
Sometimes I'm very childish.
So it's come down to this.
I can't have it all. Okay.
Can I have it little by little? If I focus on what my heart tells me is most important, can I still have a little of everything else?
And can someone please come over and clean the boogers off my couch?