When I arrived there were these kids all playing joyfully in the back yard of my friend’s house… complete with bouncy house, swing set, piñata; and then there were their Moms. Yes, Moms of preschoolers… you know, they have this vague, almost fearful glint in their eyes from being overwhelmed, because they haven’t slept a full 6 hours in over 2 years and have only been alone for intervals of 88 seconds at a time (well, if you consider being on the other side of a closed bathroom door from your screaming toddler, alone). They wonder if they will ever read another book, much less be alone with their husbands, without having to pay someone…especially in their own house ever again, and question why they even bothered to go to college. I know that season very well, I lived it fully for 15 years (YES, 15 years due to the spacing of my 3 children!).
There in that clear afternoon sunlight, I didn’t have to juggle feeding a toddler, watching a manic preschooler, checking the clock for school pick up time and carry on a conversation…all at the same time. I didn’t have to worry about the inevitable bouncy house nose bleed (‘cause you know it isn’t a party until someone bleeds) or if my off spring would remember to get to the potty before the actual event occurred. I wasn’t concerned about nap times. My mind wandered to who I was having coffee with in the morning, if my college age child was driving too fast and when my husband and I were going dancing again.
I was the only one there without a kid! The most surprising part, I was glad. See, I have mentioned to my husband several times lately, that I might like to have “another one”, but today I came face to face with the fact that I don’t. This reality hit me in the face like a brick. Honestly, this “new season” of life has been creeping up on me for a while, but as my identity crumbled in the middle of all that preschool joy, I looked around and wondered why there was no wine at this party….