Welcome to Five Minute Friday. The flash mob of writing where we link up over at Kate’s place.
The Prompt: Send
I wish I could send myself a letter. The future me, I wish she could send the now me a letter. Some nuggets of truth and words of wisdom. I think I know what she might say. It would go a little like this:
Hello there. You look tired. No, you are tired. The babe probably hasn’t been sleeping well because apparently baby teeth never cease to come in. Which means he’s in bed with you-hot and wandering across the blankets in a fit of swollen gum frustration. And he’s on the verge of the terror twos, which are as endearing as they are exhausting.
You haven’t ran in ages. The weather and your weary body are to blame. And it’s dark out there and you’ve worked enough with the scary patients to not want to be there by yourself. So you’re aggravated with this body that you can’t even blame on pregnancy and childbirth. There is no such grace for adoptive mammas.
You worry. A lot. You worry about your kids and their friends and the choices they make. You’re working on coming to peace with the knowledge that each choice is theirs and not a direct reflection of you. But that’s a tough pill to swallow. And you worry about other things-jobs, finances, finding a spare moment with the man you married that doesn’t include talk about teacher conferences and baby wipes.
But here’s the thing-it’s going to be okay.
Tonight it may not seem like it. Tonight may have been full of tantrums and dishes and trying to keep up.
But it’s going to be okay.
Your kids-they’re amazing. They are funny and creative and brilliant. The twos will be gone before you know it, and those nights of baby fingers in your hair will end too quickly.
Little League and band concerts and being the taxi only lasts for a time. And don’t forget-the car is often where your children will talk the most. You’ll learn about boys and friends and fights and dreams as you turn on the blinkers and turn down the radio. Before long you wont be wrestling the toddler into the car seat, and the mom-mobile with all the seats wont be necessary.
Soon enough there wont be school papers lining the counters and legos trying to imprint themselves on the bottom of your foot. Darth Vader and Optimus Prime will lose their hold and girls with guitars will take over.
And that man you have? The one that tells you to go to Costco on your own because he knows it’s like a mini vacation-the conversations with him will change too. You’ll still have plenty to discuss, but you’ll remember with a little bit of sadness how you always circled back to the next school project and how you’ll ever find a babysitter for Saturday night. You’ll miss those “date nights” after the kids go to bed, because that’s the only moment the house is quiet.
And the work and job and other worries? It will come. The writing is what you love and don’t forget that. The jobs will come and go, and you’ll change lives in the midst.
So, ~M. Take a breath and take a bubble bath. Take a minute to relax and breath in the smell of youth and family and adventure.
This world only spins so many times with you in it, don’t let it slip by.