At least Humpty’s parts were all in one place. Kids’ schedules, practices, rehearsals, parties, and appointments – the pieces of our lives are all over Orange County.
Somehow they all must fit to create a whole, “put together” life. I’ll admit, I frequently feel scrambled. And at the end of most days, fried.
I’m not so fearful of one great fall as I am of falling short each day. Missing one little piece here, or another there. Forgetting something, not meeting the demands of a hectic schedule; working, mothering, being a spouse, a daughter, a dog and guinea pig owner, a neighbor, and a friend. It’s difficult to keep track of it all.
Little Bo Peep is not the only kid who lost something. My kids lose things constantly. Shoes, socks, scissors, notebooks. Even dishes and spoons have been known to run away, found later in the backyard or in someone’s bedroom.
I’m not just sitting on my tuffet eating curds and bonbons all day. I’ve got to be nimble. I’ve got to be quick. Always hoping at the end of the day I’ve still time left for a little fun. All work and no play, makes Jill a dull mom. But my idea and the kids’ idea of fun are not always the same these days.
Used to be a can of play-doh, a little tea set, and a carton of crayons made for some real bliss. Now, it’s up the hill to fetch friends, and down the hill to the beach, up the hill to the mall, and down the hill to another friend’s house.
I’ve been warned, and try to heed the wisdom of mothers who’ve stood where I stand now. Fellow moms who before me have cooked, carried, cried, cared for. Mothers who’ve filled out forms, filled up bathtubs, and been filled with pride. Mothers who don’t let their cupboards go empty, or Mothers whose kids are grown and gone.
They tell me, “Enjoy it.” They promise, “It goes by too fast. They say, “You will miss these days.”
It’s difficult to be in the moment though, because I find myself running all over town like Wee Willie Winkie. I not only bake cakes as fast as I can, but I do many things as fast as I can, unsure if I will get it all done.
The dogs laugh to see such sport, hoping every time I grab my car keys, they can come with us. But they are happy as long as there are bones in the cupboard.
We’re not perfect. We do sometimes fall and have to be put back together again. But nothing in life is perfect. I’m happy with our crooked little lives in our crooked little house.