Chutes and Ladders
After nine years and a sweet taste of “freedom”, I gave birth to quite the little surprise. Davis, who will be two in February, is a delightful kid. Unfortunately, I have been rather slow to adjust to this whole transaction.
Prior to Davis, I didn’t fully appreciate that I had already parented through the dependency stage in my kids’ life. When he was born, my other five boys were all over the age of 9 and could fend for themselves. They had figured out how NOT to starve, and all had mastered some sort of hygiene ritual. That, in itself, was 60% of my parenting right there. I was still involved in school life, but I was beyond the tedious efforts of sight words and the daily drilling of the math facts. Parent-teacher conferences had become more about THEIR habits and less about where I (the parent) had “dropped the ball” this marking period. After raising five stair-steppers, I had finally reached some sort of landing in the parental stairway. I was at a place where I could take a break, or at least catch my breath, enjoy the fruits of my labor, and rest up for the teenage climb ahead. I was finally the “put together” mom, fashionable and on-time for the sporting events... Dunkin coffee in hand. Living the good life.
Those were my former days.
This morning, at 7:49, as Davis screamed at the foot of my bed, I melted away to nowhere underneath my covers. In those three seconds, I contemplated my whole existence and wondered how I got here in life. My previous life of sleeping in, skipping meals, and having Netflix control flashed before my eyes. A budget without diapers, daycare, and apple slices lingered in my heart.
I am NOT happy today.
“DeLea. You just woke up”, Varday responds.
This morning, I felt like I took a bad spin in the game of Chutes and Ladders. I was trotting along, when suddenly, I landed on that one square where you slide all the way back to the beginning. 21 months into baby #6, I peer out of the covers... yup, this is indeed my life. I'm back at the beginning.