The principal of my sons’ school asked me if I was lonely. I laughed louder and harder than was necessary.
No. I am not lonely.
All three of my children have started school. This means that I drop them off at 7:40 a.m. and I pick them up at 2:45 p.m. every day. This means that I have seven glorious hours of uninterrupted work, play, lunch, do-whatever-the-hell-I-wanna-do time every day for the first time since my son Isaiah was born 11 years ago.
I am not lonely. I am ambitious. I am busy. And for the first time in years, I am feeling more organized.
Emphasis on “more.”
The first week I swore I was going to celebrate with Mimosas. I didn’t. I dove head first into getting things done. I made appointments, scheduled lunches and made sure to be on time for pick-ups and drop-offs. The second week — on Monday — I dropped them off, grabbed my laptop and laid in bed for far too long binge watching something I can’t even remember right now. My motivation is slowing to a trickle.
I am not lonely. I am tired. I am burned out. I don’t wanna do nothin’, honey.
I have been feeling badly for my sudden attack of laziness. I have so much time and I find myself day dreaming about sleeping, wanting to be sleeping or sleeping.
Instead of rest punctuating my work, my work is now interrupting my rest.
I am daft. Of course, I am lonely.
I have spent the past 11 years with toddlers on my legs while I furiously sent emails. I have made dinner over meetings while children ran through the room. I have taken them to events, fed them marshmallows under the table, nursed them, carried them, shushed them and taught them how to juggle life.
I am their mother and their presence has changed the way I work, eat, sleep, breathe, love.
How do any of you office dwellers get anything done without the pure adrenaline rush of raising your flock on conference call?
The new normal is quieter and I don’t like it.
While my boys are getting used to the new schedule of school, their mother is fighting off the doldrums of a home empty for seven uncomfortable, directionless hours.
Oh, how I miss them and when they come home, I am so very happy.
Don’t tell anyone.