Margaret Domnick - The Inside Story...

I'm a woman, mother, friend, sister, daughter, wife and partner in crime. I'm spontaneous, anal, loud, loving, funny (or at least I think I am), and generally honest. Sometimes I get these thoughts... so I've created this blog to share them. Feel free to respond, but be kind...did I mention that I'm sensitive?



Friday, July 16, 2010

Life...It Is What It Is

“Mom, do you like your life?”

I froze for a second. I was caught completely off guard. I was in the middle of emptying the dishwasher and explaining to my children (again) why everyone DOES need to pitch-in with daily chores. I had been talking out-loud about the long list of wait-till-the-very-last-possible-moment-to-get-done items, the cost of braces, the impossibility of our activity schedule, and the necessity of dinner.

I look across the counter at the honest, adorable, intent, questioning face of my 10 year-old son. “Well, do you?” he inquired again.

I flashed back to my wedding day, still the happiest day of my life. I saw the quick births of my children, my first house, and my college graduation. I remembered puking babies, sleep deprived nights, screaming car trips, and petty fighting. I saw medical bills, food bills, daycare fees, and house payments. I saw spilled juice on the carpet, pee on the brand new couch, and food stuck in the crevices of the car. I remembered all the diapers, the wipes, the toys, the bottles, the books, the games and the laundry. I had no time for myself, no time for my husband, and no time for my friends. I remembered pretending to sleep, hoping someone else -anyone else - would go get the crying child. Now the youngest of those crying children is 10, and asking me if I liked my life.

A sudden rush of emotion came over me. I remembered all the grins, giggles, laughing, dancing, singing and being silly. I remembered family pictures, Christmas cards, bike rides, campfires, coloring, play-doh, finger-paint, swim lessons, back yard kick-ball, hide-and-seek, and bedtime monsters. I remembered the smells of freshly baked cookies and freshly bathed kids. I relived daily routines, butterfly kisses, bedtime stories, prayers, confessions, and finally silence. I remembered school programs, sports practices, piano lessons, birthday parties, Halloween costumes, Christmas mornings, sleep-overs, zoo trips, and snuggle time.

I remember discussions about what Big Bird might eat for breakfast, why grown-ups got to stay up late, and why cookies aren’t a meal. More recently they include curfew, driving, dating, sexting, parties, cliques, trips, manners, attitude, behavior, grades, and daily chores. It may not be what I had planned it to be, but…

“Yes” I said, “I love my life”.

Margaret

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