A month ago, I was sucked into the whirlwind of my present life. This life consists of hours of extracurricular activities, part-time homeschooling and working, same amount of housecleaning if not more, and never-ending hours of feeding (I hungry is my younger daughter's favorite phrase) and tantrums.
I embraced this life. I thought, finally I'm busy. Finally the kids are able to do more than just knock down blocks and scribble. Finally I've joined the rest of the moms out there juggling it all. My previous life consisted of watching the kids build blocks and reading fiction books. It was comatose compared to how it is now. I knew it was too slow. I wanted to be more productive (there are entire books on women suffering from this malady). I jumped into the whirlwind enthusiastically.
Last week I crashed. After enduring yet another tantrum, I lay down on the couch and literally could not get up again to prepare for soccer practice (water, snacks, getting 3 kids to potty, changing a diaper). So I called the husband and vented. That helped me to feel well enough to get them to soccer. The husband must have left as soon as we hung up, because he met me at the field and told me to take a break (see, he can be thoughtful).
I spent two hours in the bookstore, browsing through magazines and books. I picked out two books as gifts for people, one as a thank you to my friend and the other to my baby's adored Sunday school teacher who is moving away, and then picked up some essentials at the grocery store. My getaway time was spent running errands, but that's how a mom's life is. At least I didn't have to rush, and more importantly, it worked. Now, back to the whirlwind I know and love.