A midlife mom’s life

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Yesterday afternoon, Calvin started telling me of his big plans for Friday night. He and his girlfriend were going to double date with another couple. They were going to go bowling and then out to get something to eat. I reminded him that Friday night was the last big swim meet for his swim club and although he was not swimming in it (it was a meet for the little kids) two people in our family were required to work it! They call it mandatory volunteerism. What they do is take the profits made at the swim meet, divide that among the people that didn’t work, and then add that amount to your next bill! Only now it seems that there are fewer families in the swim club so each family is required to send in TWO workers. Apparently one of those workers was NOT going to be my only swimmer. sigh…

So Sam stayed home to babysit and I set out by myself to work the swim meet with the understanding that Mr. Pete would join me. Friday night is usually pizza night at our house but as we had this obligation, he was just going to pick up Filet of Fish at McDonald’s. (2 for $3 during Lent!) He picked up the fish and fries, dropped them by the house (except for Rosie who got chicken nuggets anyway – she absolutely hates fish right now!) and then he met me at the pool with two cold File of Fish sandwhiches and some french fries. At least our jobs were not too strenuous. After being a swimming mom for years and years, I know which jobs and times are the prime ones to get! Being a timer is backbreaking, hot, wet work and I totally dislike it! Concessions is okay, but I don’t like working with the hungry demanding swarm of people that usually descend on it like a swarm of locusts during the usual lull in the meet. Admissions goes by quickly, but it’s pretty stressful too. No, I prefer to work the awards table on Friday night. There are only a few events so it is not too busy or too long, and the people are happy because their kid placed in the top eight spots! It’s the dream gig of swim meet jobs. I try to snarf it up every year.

We got home and got the kids to bed and then we went to bed around 12:00. I couldn’t stay up for Calvin any more. Pete says he got in around 12:30. I didn’t hear him, so I shot straight up in bed around 3:00 a.m. wondering where he was. I really don’t sleep well when he is out late. In fact I hate it. If he goes to the local college and lives at home, I’m sure I will be completely sleep deprived, almost like having a newborn in the house. I just can’t fully relax until my whole family is home, safe and sound.

The baby has weaned herself. I didn’t really want to wean her but she got so she was just nursing to do me a favor and then it got to be more trouble than it was worth . She is more cuddly now though. She wants to sit on my lap all the time. I’ve got a few things to distract her. She will take a bath with her sister, but how many baths can you take in a week during the winter time? She will also play in soap suds in the kitchen sink. The area around the sink has never been so clean from all of the spilt soap and water. She also likes Playdough. She likes to mash it and squeeze it for about 20 minutes. But after all of that, plus multiple snacks, she pretty much just wants to … sit on my lap. I am trying to enjoy it and remember what it is like because by next year she will want to run outside with her siblings, and in 14 years she’ll want to drive all over the place and get away from home. So for now she is mine and she wants to be with me instead of doing or going anywhere else and I am trying to be grateful.

It’s scary how fast my children are growing. I saw a mom at the library yesterday struggling with her stroller and all of her little kids. Just ten years ago that was me, and it went by like a flash! Now that 1 year old and 4 year old are big strapping boys, taller than me, carrying my heavy book boxes to the car. I guess I’m reaping my reward now, for being the mom with babies, toddlers and preschoolers then! I smiled at the struggling mom and the boys offered to help her. She smiled.

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