This Will Make All the Difference

Back from a blogging hiatus, here I sit ready to describe to you my utter confusion with my current life circumstances. I had always, okay Mom, maybe not always, but for a bit of time now, seen myself as a career oriented person. I could be found waking up at an ungodly hour or nuking my always delicious Lean Cuisine entree du jour at the given lunchtime. I never allowed myself to wear the same outfit twice in one week, and I would strive to work my way up that slippery ladder. I dabbled in supervision. I forced myself to attend and even participate in some nightmare family therapy sessions, and I even attended ridiculously boring and unproductive meetings that left me longing for a Diet Coke to keep me awake for the remainder of my day. Was I happy? Not really. I mean I loved the kids I worked with, but I always suffered from the Sunday night blues.

These days on the other hand, I frequent the local park. I allow my daughter to watch more television than I would like to admit, and if you happen to see me on a Tuesday and then again on a Thursday, I may very likely be wearing the same pants. I attended a MOMS Club meeting yesterday. For those of you not familiar with the MOMS Club, it is an International organization that stands for Moms Offering Moms Support. However, I tend to stay to myself for fear that I will have nothing in common with the other housewives. So, not much support happening there.

As I have said before, I have found myself very puzzled lately. People continue to ask me what I have been up to, and I find myself pulling answers out of you know where. What have I been up to? Do people really want to know? I watched 3 episodes of Signing Times, changed 4 diapers, fed the dogs, did the laundry, sang my ABC's and made dinner around 5:00. Different answers usually apply to different people. For former worker buds or people I am trying to impress or at least engage in lasting conversation, I might reply that I am thinking about starting a private practice or maybe do some volunteer work again at the local battered women's shelter. But, I am not really. I mean I would like to, but I don't seem to have the motivation or courage or whatever it may be.

Of course, there is always the other option--Baby #2. Can you hear the cheers from the Grandparents now? That option leaves me more confused than ever. Could I do it all over again? The pregnancy, the delivery, the lactating? Oh, the lactating. The infancy! As you all know it took a year and a half for me to get pregnant the first time. Those 15 months along with some divine intervention, and I was puking in no time at all. Not that all of that puking wasn't rewarding in the end, but the toilet and I became way too intimate.

It would seem that I have traveled to the two roads that diverged in a yellow wood. Each needing more thought. Each provoking opinions. Each keeping me up at night. Each with daffodils and thorny bushes along the way.