How do you do it?

I am asked that question all the time, and friends, I don't get it. How do I do what? Watch my kids? Stay at home? Cook three meals-a-day, wash, dry and fold laundry, vacuum, dust and pay bills? I just do. Because it's my job. And yes, contrary to popular belief, it is a full-time job...but unlike those of you who get a paycheck each Friday, I am perpetually waiting for the crew from Publisher's Clearinghouse to show up at my door and reward me for all of my hard work. I mean, I would be waiting if I actually did that Publisher's Clearinghouse stuff. I just don't...because I'd probably become addicted to those bonus item things they send ya.

Anyway, I regress....as I typically do....
The other day (I say "the other day" a lot, as if there is some week in my subconscious, comprised of "other days") I was in the grocery store with one kid. I have decided that one kid is my max for grocery store trips. More than one comes along, and they fight like rabid raccoons. One, I can handle. Usually. It's just important that I never underestimate the volume of even just one little mouth. And the word "want." A kid can say something as politely as possible, but when it comes to the part when they say they "want" something, it is always at least 30 decibels louder than anything else they've previously said. E.g.: "Mommy, can you please buy those Danimals (or if you're my kid, you embarrassingly pronounce it "damnanimals") crush-cup yogurts? I WANT them!!!"

So.

I had a pretty successful trip, on this other day, when I went to the store. Things stayed mellow, I bought what I needed, took advantage of some good deals. Then there's the checkout. And I think we should really give a tongue-lashing to people who market checkout lanes, because they clearly do not have children who WANT all those little pocket-size toys, gum, and intriguing cans of Binaca. Nonetheless, my boy was not too hard on me this day. Yes, he asked for every last little item there, as I was distractedly emptying my cart onto the belt, but he did not scream or cry, or do anything that would have surely happened if there had been more than one child present. It was the lady behind us who made the trip memorable...she kept eyeing my purchases, making concerned faces. Finally, as she placed the little "order separator" between our cart-loads, she said "How do you do it?!"
I stopped, dead in my tracks.
"Do what?" I said with a half-smile, expecting the worst...imagining that she perhaps saw my child pocket the Binaca when I wasn't looking, and I'd have to make some horrible example of why we do not steal even if it's small and fits in our pocket...(can you tell I've had to do that before?!)
"I mean," she says, "do you have a big family? Or do you at least have someone to help you unload all this stuff at home? Who do you make all this for?" as she sweeps her hand across the grand pile of chicken, toaster waffles, spaghetti sauce, dog treats and produce on the belt. "And all those paper products," pointing to the paper towel and toilet paper, (listed as PT and TP on my grocery list)"must cost you a fortune!"
I chuckled. It's what I do when I don't really know what to say.
"It does, actually, but you know...coupons...and..."
"But how do you do it? How many kids do you have?"
Now this woman looked about 65. From what I know about her younger years, back in the 40's and 50's, it wasn't atypical to have a big family. So what gives? I've only got 3. 4 when my stepson is over...I didn't think that was a lot. Yes, it's hard, and yes, they're young. But it isn't horrible. So I told her something along those lines, and she gave me this half-smile of pity. Which is when I started mentally going over my outfit and hairdo without actually looking away from her. Did I brush my hair? Am I wearing earrings? Did I spill Diet Coke on my shirt in the car? My only guess is that I look like a destitute woman at her wits-end.
And something odd comes of this situation.
Instead of feeling bad about her revelation that my life must be terribly difficult, I suddenly feel a little bit gleeful. I stand a little taller. I grin at my little boy, now engrossed in a National Enquirer. Heck yeah, this is a tough job. Finally, someone sees, it's a job. No weekends off. 24 hour shifts. No paycheck, no bonus, no vacation. No company car, just a hideous minivan with a mysterious odor and the occasional french fry wedged in the seat cushion.
Clearly, even if just for a moment, I've debunked the myth that stay-at-home moms are these perfectly pedicured Betty Crockers, lounging about on the patio with an Arnold Palmer, awaiting their Ward Cleaver to return, briefcase in hand, to sit down to a lovely gourmet meal.
So I shrugged my shoulders, wiped the pretend-sweat from my brow and did one of those little, "well ya know..." things while playfully shaking my head as I handed the cashier my credit card.
All in a day's work.

...and thanks for listening all the time.

Dear God,

I know I talk to you all the time. Probably to the point of annoying, but, I figure, hey, you're God, things aren't supposed to annoy you. So I keep talking. And hoping that some of it is making its way to your ears.
Today I am putting it in writing. And then I'm gonna post it to this blog forum. I don't know if you're in to blog forums at all, but I suppose as long as I keep it clean, and I make sure everybody knows how I feel about You, it's probably okay. Besides, the only reason I'm writing this in the first place is because there might be another mom out there who needs it. So she doesn't think she's alone in her crazy world. Because as I've told you, it's easy to feel alone.
So here's the gist of it: I need a break. Relief, from somewhere. I've done it all myself, and I know you tell me not to. I've tried not to bother you with all my woes. I've been very thankful for all you've already done for me. But right now in life, I feel like I need someone bigger and stronger than me to take over for a little while. Or at least give me a good boost. Yeah. A boost would be good - like when you know you can't possibly reach the next level by yourself, and someone comes up and makes that little foothold by locking their hands together, and they say "here, step up," and you're thinking oh my word, but I'll break your arms off, but you giggle nervously and take the lift because you really needed it and then you realize it wasn't so awful to trust for a second, that someone else, bigger and stronger than you, could actually help. There I go rambling again to you. See, I even do it in writing. Sorry.
You know the stuff I need. You know the relief I'm asking for, so I won't blare that all over this blog forum thing.
But I will post it....because maybe another crazy person out there needs You too, but they're too afraid to ask.
Love,
Sara

Mint Juleps and Rocking Chairs

"And then I am going to buy my house in Kauai before I am too old to actually enjoy it," I announced, last night, mentally sealing my deal that I am going to triumph in my own business, make a six or seven-figure income and become very comfortable in life. Not that I believe money is all that we need - it's the last thing, really. But it would certainly be nice to not feel the pings of a coronary each time I get my credit card statement. Or when I take my stepson to the dentist and hear the words "insurance won't cover this." Or when I get a text from my husband casually saying "The washer broke...basement's flooded." A few extra bucks would be nice, that's all.
My mother and I were conversing on the phone the other day and I exclaimed: "It's just NOT how I planned my life to be. I had no idea it would turn out this way!" And then I instantly felt guilty because I am certain that the woman who listened quietly as she was told she had breast cancer, or that she couldn't bear children, or that her husband had been killed, her child has a debilitating disease...didn't really plan on life being this way, either.
I heard snippets of many womens' stories this week while attending National Conference for lia sophia. So many of them had a butterfly story, of how they mustered up the strength and perseverance to rise from the pits of despair and become successful in their own businesses. One woman looked at me and said, "Well you know, girlfriend, that if you want somethin' done right, you just gotta do it for yourself!" And how many times have I heard that? And how many times do I still believe I will be somehow rescued from my woes? I promise to let you know when it happens.
John Lennon said "Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans." As we hurdle through the day's challenges, feeling like hamsters on the wheel, life is going on around us, and, before we know it, our hair is gray, our kids are grown and have moved away and we wonder where it all went.
So, I'm scheming again. Planning, I should say...because it sounds nicer. Can I, through faith, courage, and enthusiasm, change my own path? Because the alternative is to be stagnant. Sitting in a stale pool of "wait and see." And I know I can do that, because I do it all the time. Can I feel the empowerment of being a woman in today's society, grab life by the reins and show no fear? "I'll try," I say to myself. And then I remember the saying, "There is no try; only do." So...there's that.
I had another little dream, in case Kauai didn't work out. When I lived in the south, there were these magnificent old plantation houses, with majestic cypress trees drooping over the front yard, a dog or two wandering about the long, gravelly driveway. The best part about them was that they all had these porches as big as my garage - equipped with dainty little tables, lumbering rocking chairs and giant porch swings. I imagined myself laying in the swing, reading a book, or sitting in one of those chairs, sipping a mint julep and watching the day go by. There'd be a lake or a river out back, full of fish, a rickety old dock to sit on with a dog or two by my side and a night sky so big an starry, I'd feel like I was in outer space.
For now it's just a dream. But maybe also a challenge, because, as I'm slowly grasping, this is the only chance we've got to make what we want of this life. There are no do-overs. And, the only guarantee in life is that it won't last forever.