Last night we were watching The Amazing Race on TV, and the winners of this leg of the race won a trip to the Galapagos Islands.
I thought, “Oh man, that would be such a fantastic trip.”
Then I thought, “I feel sick even thinking about an imaginary trip in which I would be apart from the kids for eight days.”
Sad, I know. And possibly unhealthy. At least, I expect my future teenagers to think so. Sorry kids, that house party you were hoping to throw while your parents were backpacking in France? Never gonna happen.
I remember when I was a teen, I was very concerned about the fact that my mother’s whole life was her kids. She didn’t have her school secretary job yet, and she didn’t have any hobbies or things she liked to do. She’d been divorced for a few years and hadn’t kept in touch with most of her pre-divorce friends, and dating was out of the question. I definitely thought it was a major problem for all of us that my mother didn’t get out more, and have more fun.
I felt a lot of pressure on us to fill up her life, and I worried constantly about what would happen when we all moved out. And in fact, when my youngest sister was in her last year of high school and preparing to go to university, there was a lot of talk from my mom about how she wasn’t needed any more, about how she should just move to another country where she could die alone.
So now, I must say, I’m on the other side of the coin, and I can see that I’m going to be just like her. I do try to keep my hand in various social activities and sports and hobbies and whatnot. But still, being a mom is my chief job. The fretting never ends, does it?
Once the kids move out, here’s how I predict I’ll be spending my days (click to enlarge);
If need be, I can dump that personal hygiene slice to make room for more fretting and emailing. You can never have too much!