And I was FINE when I looked at the report cards with more A's on it than an Oakland baseball team and I am beaming with pride at my brilliant progeny.
And even when I saw Emily's friend Carlitos crying , no - bawling as he left the school (only later to find out that he was very upset that he did not make Honor Roll thus affirming the theory that some kids DO care about making Honor Roll even in 5th grade and that he is a really nice boy and I shouldn't be concerned when he and my 10 year old daughter hang out.) I was still FINE. Then when I took the girls on their annual celebratory let's-go-out-to-lunch-then-to-Toys-May-Be-Us-But-Customer-Service-Isn't-to-shop-for-excellent-report-card-rewards and we bumped into the entire staff of our school on their annual celebratory Yeah! Day luncheon...I was still FINE.
And even when I dropped off the medical forms at the Park and Rec department so the girls could start their camp on Monday (yes, folks...{all}daycamp starts Monday ) and started to think about what I was going to do with my summer days and the fact that I hadn't written or read a blog in practically forever and that if I actually did write something for my blog which I am surprised still even exists thus affirming the theory that the internet is, indeed, forever (as if two months was even close to forever) and that I shouldn't feel guilty about taking a few days to just loll around and maybe read a book or work on my tan and play on Facebook instead of trying to solve the Gulf Crisis(es) -and by that I mean the war and the oil... I was still FINE.
Then - I unpacked the car of the mountain of STUFF , and started thumbing through it; admiring their progress, adoring their photos and artwork it hit me. I started crying right there over the backpacks and Academic Award certificates and portfolios; tired tears rolling down my cheeks staining the achievements.
And...I was most certainly NOT FINE.
I was most certainly NOT FINE when I considered what is taking place around here. My babies aren't my babies anymore. I was never one of 'those moms' who mill their own wheat and puree their own babyfood while working on the loom. I consider myself just above 'slacker' on the Mom-O-Meter. I do try to buy organic when I can (because there has to be something that we are doing to our cows and chickens and veggies that are turning our 10 year olds into women sooner than nature intended), I schlepp and cook and {sic} clean and try to make the best of this stay at home-ness I've been both bless and cursed to 'enjoy'. I have spent the past 10 months Presidenting our PTA to the tune of an average of 25 (unpaid) hours a week (but it's for the kids, right?) and have -if I do say so myself- done a hell of a job. I don't always use politcal correctness, curse like a sailor at inappropriate times, and do way to much demanding of perfection that I am neither willing or able to achieve myself {in other words I yell as much as someone with a severed laryngeal nerve can yell}. I worry about things like money, and paying bills and all the while planning a vacation and buying lottery tickets (because if someone has to win - why can't it be me?) which in and of itself seems ironic. And the guilt---oh, the guilt that is sometimes so overwhelming I am not sure if I am experiencing a hot flash or a wave of guilt.
...and to be quite honest, the hot flashes are easier to deal with.
