Breathe

It always happens to me at this time of the year. The grey dawn interrupts my morning sleep and my mind begins racing before I can even get out of bed. I feel twisted around and pulled in every different direction while my name is called, echoing off the walls, bouncing up from the floor. Mom! Mrs. Ross! Cassadie! Somebody always needs something.

This working mom thing goes okay but only for so long. About this time of the year it all falls apart for me. Work gets super busy. I came into my classroom last week to find two parents waiting for me while my phone rang and someone else was paging me over the intercom. Some people will say that it's good to be needed. I say it's also good to relax.

My fuse gets short. I find it nearly impossible to keep from rolling my eyes when the third kid in a row asks me the same tedious question. Will we be turning this in? How much is this worth? There are parties to plan and fundraisers to sponsor and research projects to grade. Soccer games and swimming lessons. Playdates and birthday parties and- oh shit- did I really forget to buy a present? It's tomorrow? Did I even remember to RSVP?

I am juggling as fast as I can, knowing that it's only a matter of time before I drop one of these balls. Before I miss an appointment, forget someone's big and important something, miss a payment, lose an application, before I let somebody down.

There are people I love who never hear from me. I've just been so busy, you know how it goes. There are voices that I miss hearing on the other end of the phone. People who I think about it those fleeting moments when nobody calls my name. People I miss. People I love.  I don't want to remember that I was busy. I just need to let it all spin for awhile. To ride it out the way I do every year. To smile, breathe, and go slowly.

Sometimes I feel an obligation to blog. Losing my mom and the connection to my own childhood compels me to document my kids' lives. But sometimes I get caught up in trying to compartmentalize our experiences into neat and tidy narratives. Sometimes there is no theme, sometimes there are just pictures.

And perhaps there is a motorcycle. "Dad! You are so awesome on that motorcycle, Dad!"

It is all awesome. Especially when I remember to breathe.

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