I  remembered the sweet simplicity of lolling in bed, of watching the news without any demand on me to get up and get the kids moving…I remembered what it was to jump into my car and drive to the nearby coffee place for a cup…I remembered the freedom FREEDOM of my life, the way it was.

Except it wasn’t. It does a soul good to remember that sometimes, the good old days never really were. Yes, there was spontaneity and there were casual moments sitting in a cafe and reading…but there was stress, and loneliness, and frustration, and monotony. So as the New Year approaches, let us all be thankful for the present moments in our lives…they are precious indeed.

I can think of nothing, really nothing, as welcome as lazing by a pool, with the ocean next door, with nothing to do except keep an eye out on the kids.   Oh, and napping! And cocktails, too, of course.  I want to say that I am totally reinvigorated…ready to start writing, full of energy for putting pen to paper and creating.  But I’d be lying, big time.

See, strolling about in the sun really just makes me want to do more of it, more relaxing, more indulging.  Writing is hard work, as you all probably know.  I’ve got to get back to it, but for today…I’m just going to bask in the residual glow of my vacation.  Ahhhhhh.

I saw a suggestion about creating one’s own list of writing prompts by randomly, swiftly naming 10 things one may write about one day (don’t hold your breath!).  Here’s mine:

Makeup application techniques, spa days, toddler behaviors, celebrity gossip, depression, publishing without publishing contacts, sustainable passion, neighbor block parties, get-rich inventions, and the role of hospice.

So that’s my random, top-of-the-head list.  What’s yours?

Parenthood is tough, isn’t it?  In case you don’t know, let me tell you: it is.  Big time.

So this is a little story about a woman who has just had her first baby and is struggling with something like postpartum, something like fear.

Take a look: http://www.wheelhousemagazine.com/fiction/one_year.html

He said: “Mommy, I’m growing up!”

I felt conflicted, and thought “my baby is growing up, changing…already establishing an independence, moving away from me. Waaahhhh!”

I didn’t respond at first, too busy mourning.

So he said: “Mommy, I said I’m growing up!”

And I said: “I know, sweetie!” You are getting to be a big boy.”

And then…the best. He said: “Yep! I’m NOT growing down!”

He’s still my baby. For a little while, at least.

He’s referring to things like having your baby in a crib versus letting your baby sleep next to you.  It’s hard to let a baby “cry it out”–but it becomes easier.  If you let your baby sleep in the big bed…that’s easy for a while (no tears!), but it becomes hard when they are big enough that they are taking up a lot of space.  Think about this concept in relationship to pacifiers–easy at first, but it can be hard to take a pacificer away from a four year old!

So, I’ve used this notion as a guiding principles when it comes to child-rearing.

But, I realize it has a place in my own life, as well.  From self-control in eating, to writing on a regular basis, to cleaning the house…what is hard becomes easy.  Taking the easy way out will eventually demand it’s payment.

So here I am, mid-thirties, already lecturing about having a sassy mouth.  I’ve refrained (barely) from shouting, “Don’t you sass me!” and “Don’t get fresh with me!”  But I have resorted to saying, “child, we don’t say that in our house.”

His response?

“Hey lady, re-lax!”

I’m not kidding.

The other day, a little girl from down the block came to play for a few hours.  The first hour or so was fine: 2 kids exploring through the toy bin and then snack time.  Easy.  But then, the struggle to share and be kind to each other began…struggles that any 3-year old must wrestle with.

The “he touched me!” and “she took it from me!” began.  I’d tell the kids to “hey, work it out; be nice!” And they would.  Most of the time.  When they couldn’t work it out, I’d intervene with a suggestion that they hug each other and say they are sorry to each other, so that they could continue playing. It was sweet.  They’d quickly hug, say “sorry!” and move on.  Beautiful.

When do we lose that? That easy ability to take things lightly, to move on in the moment, to let go of small slights.  Watching these kids, I told myself to remember this lesson–say sorry quickly, accept others apologies quickly, move on, have fun.

The question stopped me for a moment, and made me wonder what I would have answered when I was a kid. Easy. I would have said “ROCK STAR!”

I distinctly remember standing in front of the bathroom mirror as a kid, holding my hairbrush like a microphone, and belting out the lyrics of the song “Gloria” by Laura Branigan. There was a pipe in the back yard that gave off the best reverb…so I’d put the hairbrush down and go sing the song again out there. After a while, I tired of “Gloria” and moved on to Kim Carnes’s “Bette Davis Eyes or “Making Love Out of Nothing at All” by Air Supply.

My other idea was to become a Solid Gold dancer.

Obviously, neither of these early ambitions became a reality.

My son’s answer to the question, by the way, was…..drumroll……

A fire truck.

Yep, he wants to be a fire truck when he grows up. Grandiose dreams evidently run in the family.

I told her I stay home. “You are so lucky!” she trilled.

True, I am privileged to get to be home with the kids, but as any stay-at-home mom knows…there’s a lot about the job where the word “lucky” just doesn’t apply.

Staying at home for me means being a mom first, then topping off the day with a laundry list of chores, including the namesake laundry, dishes, errands, grocery shopping, cooking, LAUNDRY (it is never done), and about forty six other tasks. The difference about being a mom who works outside the home is that if I did not get to the laundry list, I didn’t sweat it–hey, I was at work. I didn’t feel the sense of guilt that descends now when I don’t get the work done. I feel a pressure, self-induced and societal, to be hyper productive since I’m in the home the majority of the day.

Truth is, this is the hardest work I’ve ever done. If you know me, you know I’ve had some…how do I put this delicately…challenging positions, but they pale when compared to the MOUNTAINS of laundry that face me every morning.

Did I mention, the laundry is never finished?

I love my job, I appreciate my job, and I———–

Sorry, got to run. A load needs to be moved from the washer to the dryer.