droppin balls as a way of life

Every day, I drop a ball somewhere.

If I'm a good teacher (my schedule, year-end projects, report cards, and needy students have demanded that of me lately) then I'm inevitably a so-so mom, not-very-good-wife, and horrible friend.

If I'm a good wife and mom, I'm a terrible teacher and pretty pathetic friend.

If I'm a good friend, I'm a decent mom, lousy wife, and embarrassingly sub-par teacher.

Throw in volunteering a few times per month, pursuing hobbies once in a while, and chasing private dreams, and this juggling act is a lost cause. Don't even get me started about trying to keep a Suzie Homemaker house that rivals the houses of most of my friends. Around here, that just doesn't happen. Because I like to SLEEP sometimes.

No matter which direction I look in life, no matter which day, balls are careening down around me, ending in a splat all over the ground in a mess I have to hurry to clean up. I end up owing apologies to people because "I was (fill in the blank with the specific juggling act)."

Is this really life? Am I doomed to living each day of my existence knowing that I'm letting important people down, that I'm failing on priorities in life, and that I'm going to have messes to clean up?

I've read articles about the "she's got it all" women who really don't have it all. These authors have argued that women who appear to have their cake and eat it, too (i.e. work, rear children, maintain friendships, involve themselves in causes, etc.) simply have pieces of their cake, but not the whole thing. Some days, these articles make me feel a bit better. Today they make me yearn for the appearance of having it all. Honestly. Right now I just wish I could fake it. I wish I could be excited for the friend who gets to hang out with the girls while I turn down social events, or at least sound excited. I wish I could get a whole new wave of energy when I come home to Beloved and the girls and that the energy would last all the way til (livin' large here, people), like, 9:00 or something. Is that too much to ask? I even have a second cup of coffee in the afternoon most days, and yet...

dropping balls is pretty much what I do. Is there anyone, anyone at all, who drops balls regularly? Anyone who even sort of understands (no fair answering yes if you don't have at least one friend you haven't called in a month, at least one basket of clean laundry sitting around, at least one bathroom that needs to be cleaned, and a husband who needs some attention)? Sigh. I'm off to drop more balls by taking my sick body straight to bed.

true love

When Beloved greets me at the door with a kiddie bowl in hand that has small, dark crumbs, and informs me that he saved the brownie crumbs for me when he was washing the brownie pan, I know he's in this marriage for the long haul. That's real love, my friends.

all is right again

Now that our wonderful and beloved nanny, Miss Kaf-o-ween (Kathleen) is back from a two week trip, we are all much happier and more at peace around here. Even Pink, who often refuses to give nice greetings, has been exceptionally lovey & expressive about how happy she is.

And if that weren't enough, and if the way both girls were just at ease & happy when I came home weren't enough, and if the cute/thoughtful/nice Italian presents weren't enough, she even made a pan of homemade (as in, from unsweetened chocolate squares) brownies. And Lizzie is doing better with chocolate these days so I get to try a bit.

It's nice to be back to normal. Welcome home!

quote of the day from mama

"I have someone's booger on my hand."

Happy Mother's Day to all moms, and to all the women who serve as stand-in moms.

wordless wednesday

a glimpse

Hustle and bustle filled the air as we picked through dresses and found a dressing room among the 20 or so brides in the bridal shop. Beloved followed along behind looking a mix of bewildered, petrified, and enamored, with Lizzie resting contentedly in his arms.

I helped the flower-girl-to-be into the dressing room and convinced her to put down the newly-found Flower Girl ABC book so that we could try on the ivory dress. She was able undress alone, and then I lifted the big dress, fluffy with layer upon layer of organza, and helped her climb through. She turned around while I buttoned up the back and tied the ivory organza sash into an over-sized bow on her back. I pulled her long curls partly back to authenticate the look.

As her face appeared through the dress, stretching up through the layers and layers of material, it seemed to me that we crossed into another world. In this other world, my little girl will someday, Lord willing, don a white dress and I will help her into it. I will lift up the dress to help my little girl, and the face of a woman, a bride, will appear. I will help her fasten it and situate the accent pieces. I will make sure her hair is just right, and then I will stand back and watch as she approaches the mirror to the ooohs and ahhs of onlookers. She will be stunning, as she was the other day, and she will captivate those who see her. She will take her daddy's breath away and she will twirl for him, begging for a smile and a dance. And she will tug at my heart, reminding me of the beauty and complexity that is my Pink, and reminding me of the ever-changing nature of our relationship. Once she depended on me for her very life. And one day, she will depend on me to stand back and let her live her life.

In this world of today, I will continue the busy search for a flower girl dress. I will wipe the runny noses of both girls, and give them medicine to make the fevers and coughs they have bearable. I will wake up at night when they moan with pain, and I will give the baby an extra feeding to comfort her just because I want to. And I will remember the glance I had of things to come, and I will remember how very temporary this world of today really is. I can only imagine the thoughts and emotions that will come of her walk down the aisle later this month.