Seven Minutes

Posted on | May 31, 2017 | No Comments

As luck would have it, the first week of daycare for C coincides with the first week of summer camp for J. This means that I get to take C downtown to daycare then drive all the way up to north Macon to drop J off at his camp. My morning routine, which during the school year would be a mere 12-15 minute excursion to both school and daycare, is now a 45-50 minute sprawling hustle between locations to try to make it to work on time. So far, I’ve failed both mornings, with today missing the mark by only 10 minutes. I’m getting closer to having it down pat, I guess.

It’s exhausting doing this stretch, I have to admit. It was far easier when the only thing I had to do in the mornings was drop J off at school with a smile from my pajama-clad self, then slowly wind my way back home to sit and snuggle a perfectly happy baby. This hurry up and drop them both off then get to work to do all the things then hurry to pick them both up only to get J to whatever sport he’s currently involved in (right now, soccer try outs), then magically whip up a healthy dinner for the three of us who eat food while simultaneously holding a needy baby, cleaning all the day’s bottles, packing lunches, cleaning clothes, and straightening up from all of that? This crazy is for the birds.

And sometimes, when I wave bye to J as he disappears over the crest of the hill to day camp, I have to admit I breathe a little sigh of relief. Even though I miss my boys when they’re not with me. Even though I love my boys more than life. But for the 7 minutes after I drop him off and before I step into the parking lot at work, I get to turn the radio way up and play music that reminds me of times when I was younger and more carefree. This morning, my Spotify playlist shouted “GOOD EVENING SAPPHIRE!” and suddenly I was a young 20 something, clad in smaller and less work appropriate clothes, screaming with the crowd at the old Sapphire club in Orlando as Big Sky took the stage and belted out “Slow.” For the length of the song, I wasn’t a mom of two trying to keep her head screwed on tight… I was just Karen… just a girl straight out of college who believed the world was at her feet and she could be anything. Even a lawyer. Even a wife. Even a mom.

Those twenty-something’s dreams and more came true… peppered with her fair share of heart aches. And yes, I should spend every waking minute counting my blessings and remembering that being “just Karen” out of college had it’s own challenges and difficulties. But sometimes, I still need the reminder that I am more than this rat race… more than pumps and blazers and spit up and bottles. More than “hurry up!” and “Brush your teeth!” I am still that girl who loves live music, loves to dance, loves to raise a beer bottle high in the air, throw her head back and laugh until her sides ache. I need that reminder… Even if it is only seven minutes long… the distance between summer camp and work.

The distance between barely 21 and nearly 40.

Because that distance just gets bigger every day. And one day, it may take more than a song to remind me that I am more than “mom.”


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