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Friday…The Chosen Day

fridaydoDo you act differently on Friday than say…Wednesday? Of course you do! And so do so many other people. Let’s face it, Monday is the devil and Friday is…FRIDAYYYY!!!!

My friend and I were having lunch today and she said something that made me think. She said that all we do is live out the week looking forward to the weekend, and before you know it, another year has gone by; it’s summer again, your kids are going into another grade, and BAM! it’s Christmas! It doesn’t take too long with this thinking before everything that used to be…isn’t.

Why don’t we ever just enjoy Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday? I’ll give ya a pass on Monday. Monday will always be the stink eye day of the week. It’s the Debbie downer that ruins the weekend. It’s the stumbling block that ends the fun…the relaxation, the day that takes you back to reality.

They say enjoy the journey on the way to your destination. It’s difficult sometimes. You’ve got your mind so set on that end line–that goal, that all the people you met along the way there, all the things you did…well, they’ve become background noise. Something you flew by without even taking the time to enjoy them. Because before you know it, all that’s going to stick out in your mind is Friday. Theoretically.

Don’t get me wrong, Friday is wonderful. Magnificent. I don’t have to wake up early the next day, pack lunches, and go to work. Friday I wear a bigger smile, endure mean people better, and look for the silver linings. Okay, so I’ve just talked myself out of wading through Tuesday thru Thursday better. I’m going to have to treat them like Friday, I guess. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. That way I’ll enjoy the journey, be happy, and pretend it’s Friday again!  (I wonder how long this will last?) It doesn’t matter today….because it really is Friday! 🙂

Have we learned anything from this rant? I didn’t think so.

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In The Blink of an Eye

timeYou ever go on a job interview , and the guy or girl asked what you saw yourself doing in 5 years? When I was younger I thought, “boy, who knows…that’s a long time to think about.” Today…not so long.

I was driving to work this morning and I was letting my mind wander to five years from now. Of course anything could happen; I know this. But say I had the fortune of everything running smoothly in my life—what would I see myself doing? Hmmm…

Anyone who knows me, knows how restless I am. We don’t know the reason why, but merely accept that I don’t like the grass growing too long beneath my feet. And another five years would put me ten years total in my current house. TEN YEARS!! Okay, that scared me. Ten years? Have I stayed anywhere for longer than seven? Seven year itch, right?

Then I thought, three of my children will have graduated school—one even from college. OMG. That leaves only two. Two? That seemed like nothing. Who knows how to cook for only four? I could even trade in my glorious, rockin’ minivan for a real vehicle. I’ve already gotten rid of all the car seats. But, I digress. So there I was driving and thinking and I realized I wanted to move. Really move. Like in out of state. I’ve always wanted to. Why not? So there it is. There’s my “what will I be doing in five years?” plan. It might take six, but no more than that.

I was so excited with the thought of a change. I worked all day with a serene smile on my face, and came home tonight and announced it. I told my 9 and 7 year olds that we would indeed not be seeing them graduate from the county where we currently resided. They could’ve cared less. Whatever. I suppose they think I’m all talk, or perhaps they don’t care at the moment. After all, what does five years mean to them? Luckily, it means all the time in the world. To me—it’s a blink of the eye.

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Time to Move On

imageI received my son’s senior pictures in the mail yesterday. Just writing the words and remembering the sinking in my stomach when I looked at each of them, makes me want to cry. This is the little boy, the same little boy I see when I look at them, who wore Harry Potter glasses, carrying a green bucket of toys around, with a binky in his mouth and one in his other pudgy little hand. The same little boy I could hear ask me why I didn’t hug him as much as his younger brother. Boy, life takes no prisoners. You want to play the game, you must be ready to land on every spot it takes you. Don’t get me wrong, I’m over the top happy and appreciative that he’s come this far in life. Not only arrived here, but came with flying colors. He’s an ‘A’ student, the most gentle, and kind person I know for his age, he is humble, he knows exactly what he wants to do in life, and he asks for very little of me. And, now this is his last year at home with me as my boy.

After next year he’ll be packed up and ready for college. Let’s face it, they never come back the same. They’ve lived on their own for too long to feel they belong in the gang the way it used to be. My nest will be eternally mangled; roughed up, not resembling the original feathered heap it once was. I’ll look back in my rearview mirror and not see him. Oh, the thought kills me!

Change like this sucks. I don’t do well with it. The other day I’m on the phone with my third boy’s nurse and she’s telling me that once he turns nine he needs a different medicine than what I’ve always given him. I tell her that we’ll cross that bridge when it comes time. She asks, “isn’t he nine?” I retorted back, “he just turned eight. For goodness sakes, I was there. We had a party.” She then tells me that she’s looking at his chart and it says he’s nine. I scoff, telling her that she has a messed up chart. Then, she asks what year he was born. I tell her most confidently, “2006.” She quietly says, “That makes him nine.” I hold on to the counter I’m standing beside and it sinks in, Oh no, he is nine! WTH?

Time waits for no one, my friend. Sure, you’re glad when the dreaded binky isn’t the lifeline to your toddler, your son stops biting random children, and your other one can watch a movie without having the bladder of a peapod. But, when they look at you behind the wheel of a car and wave goodbye, what are you supposed to do then? Sit home and feel like there goes the last eighteen years of your life? Pray the world doesn’t chew him up and spit him out? Hope he doesn’t come home with a nasty girlfriend who suddenly knows his likes and dislikes better than you? Or, doesn’t come home at all because he’s got better plans?

I suppose I’ll just take a deep breath and enjoy this last year, hoping and praying it all turns out that he does make it through; that he does get to go to college; that he begins living his own life. That he gets the chance to live his dreams.

I might need a support group for this:)