Happiness in the Crush

“You’re laughing more.”

“You seem so happy.”

“You’re a better mom.”

Statements like that should make you feel proud. You should be standing tall. Those are three things everyone strives for right?  Instead, they feel like punches to your gut.

Any working mom knows the drudgery that can become your routine if you are not careful, and sometimes even if you are. The get up to the morning rush followed by the crush of constant questioning, managing, and doing. Home and work. Work and home. Children and Husband. Husband and children. Family and friends. Friends and Family. Everyone is jockeying to be the front-runner.

So when one thing is removed from the equation, you get to concentrate on the others. Anyone with a betting soul is going to say that increases the odds for success. Except odds don’t take in account the person.

A person who loves being a mom, a friend, a daughter, a wife, a teacher, a coach. So bench one of those for a while and the others get more playing time. That’s how you become a better mom. That’s how you seem happier. That’s why you’re laughing more. It’s a dizzying experience. You get heady thinking about what could be.

But you have to go back. You have to join the masses that are forever searching for the balance between work and home and family and friends. You have to find the happiness in the crush. And when you experience those fleeting moments when it feels like you have achieved some measure of balance, hold on tight.

Your daughter tells you that she’s sad you are going back to work because it means you’ll have less time and won’t be at the bus stop everyday, but in the next breath, says how happy she is that you’re going back to work because she knows you miss your friends and now you get to take her to school again.

Back to the balancing act. It’s achievable. The six-year-old is on her way to getting it. I suppose her momma can figure it out too.

 

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Run, Run, As Fast As You Can

If you’re ever hanging at therapy and your therapist slowly walks over to a drawer and surreptitiously pulls out what looks like one of those cheese spreaders you put out during parties, my best advice is simply to run. Run as far and as fast as your injured knee/ankle/foot/hip will allow. 
While my leg is getting stronger, the bad news is that alongside that strength sits my arch nemesis, scar tissue. I’ve garnered an up close and personal relationship  with cocoa butter and tennis balls, in that order. My skin has never been softer and yet the adhesions are steadfast. 

Which brings me to my sweet, kind, devilish therapist walking over with that instrument. There was no cheese in sight.  I checked. Unless you count the side of my knee. As hard as she tried, she just couldn’t smooth it out. 

I had thought she and I had come to an agreement. Therapy sessions were predictable: non painful massage, painful bending, less painful gym work, relieving ice. This was an unauthorized change of plans. I felt betrayed. 

Unfortunately this is not a relationship I can break off if I have any hopes of climbing stairs like a normal person ever again. 

So I will return. I couldn’t run away even if I tried. ­čÖé