Oh dear.

I'm feeling like this new sort of busy is going to be the standard for my life... like somehow there's been this huge paradigm shift in my days. That as my kids get older, the way I spend my days cannot ever look the same as it used to...

Lately I've been nostalgic for the preschool years... when the kids and I were home all day and the big decisions were about what to have for snack and whether one more half-hour tv show was going to permanently damage their little developing brains... and when I could bake cookies and give chocolate chips to little sticky fingers...

I know I'm romanticizing.

But this world I live in now, with this brain that is so full of information and lists and things to remember is much harder to live with. It's way more challenging than dirty diapers and temper tantrums and cut-up peaches on a high chair tray.

I just want to sit on the couch with chubby toddlers and read 'Little Bear' books.

I don't want to think about the school newspaper and the huge fundraiser I'm a committee member for and the need to firm up my class schedule for the next trimester (scheduling myself into next April.)

I don't want my eldest to go to junior high next year.

Or turn twelve in less than two months.

I don't want my baby to lose that second top tooth and have the famous toothless grin of a first grader, because that means his big, awkward permanent teeth are on their way and he's never going to have that sweet baby toothed smile again.

I'm not sure why this year is so much harder than last. I don't think our schedules are that much different.

It's just that this year I feel a little more out-of-control.

More in-demand.

More like I'm forgetting little details because there are so many big details to work out and my brain can only hold so much.

This morning E. went to pack his lunch and we discovered that he hadn't cleaned out his lunch box from yesterday. And he'd left an open tupperware container with bbq sauce in it in there. It was a sticky mess, and he was upset. I went in the kitchen to help him with it, and I was thrilled to take it from him and clean it up. I kept thinking 'this is why kids need Moms.' And I loved being the Mom and making his lunch box good as new. As I did it, it felt like this big, profound action...

I guess it's because my kids don't need me in that way very often anymore.

They need me to run them places.

And to get their favorite pants clean.

And to pay half for the pair of Heeleys they've been saving for.

But they don't need me to rescue them from life's little messes - like spilt milk.

Or broken toys.

Or scary dreams.

I'm more of a taxi service and less of a nurturer.

And there's a lot less warm fuzzies associated with this new job description.

And so I'm feeling a little disposed.

And I'm not sure how to remedy that.

I think a good cry might be in order.

And then I'll deal with the school newspaper.

I'll serve my kids in this much less rewarding, not snuggly at all way.

And I'll do it with a happy heart.

I think.

I'll try, at least.

I guess this is just another little adjustment.

Another change.

Another place to grow.

I just wasn't expecting it....

Life's hard sometimes.

Thanks for sharing the journey with me.