There was a time not too long ago (and by not too long ago I mean last week) when I wanted to rush all this littleness along. I know, I know “enjoy every minute,” ” the days are long and years are short” and “it all goes by so fast.” I get it…In fact I read a mommas perspective on “enjoy every minute” and commented about it. I shouted how that statement made us hair ripping mommies feel guilty when we are hiding in our *insert room here* for a moment of solitude and peace.
So how in one fleeting moment did I drop to my knees praying for time to remain still??? My five year plan.
It was a morning like any other. I was primping with potions getting ready for work. Mascara and hair product and plenty of concealer. And my mind was wandering I began to imagine where I’d like to see myself professionally in 5 years. I am a kindergarten teacher and although I’ve met some lifers I can see how the burnout rate would be a quick one. So, if I were to burn out what would I do? Where would I go? What did I want to be when I grew up?
And in that moment where I left the present (like I often do) to ponder the future, I started to do some math on my fingers. In 5 years. My baby would be 6, a few months older than my oldest is now…my oldest 11!!! My middles son, 8! How could it be that in 5 very short years I would be crib-less and diaper free? Especially when I feel consumed by piles of knock-off pampers now? In just five years would Elmo still even live here? Would the tooth fairy or even dare I say Santa be a faded fairytale? And I just know I’ll be in the thick of sports practices and grocery bills.
I always knew these things were inevitable but I didn’t realize they existed within my teeny- tiny 5 year plan.
So now what? Well. Things have morphed a bit for me. You see, cardboard boxes shaped like rocket ships are now allowed to remain as permanent decor. I’m not in a rush to discard the overflowing amount of toys I trip on daily and bath time is no longer a chink in my chain. When they are screeching and clinging, I’m breathing and my mantra exhales “five short years is all you got mama.”
Don’t get it twisted, I still self medicate with a glass of wine, roll my eyes when someone needs wiping and wake up bleary and worn with new wrinkles. But my five year plan is now one that is focused on looking at my messy life through rosy colored spectacles.