It’s been more than a year since I wrote about the heartache of life’s demands. It’s actually the heartache of my own desires, but that is so hard to admit, isn’t it? Whether you are a mom or a wife, a civil servant or a student, to admit when you desire to have something or do something that has nothing to do with altruism or good will, but really just comes down to this is what I want.

Sean and I have gone round after round about time, whether it’s time for ourselves to work on projects unencumbered or to simply be together. He can say it without guilt or hesitation, “I miss my wife” or “I want some non-kid time.” I can barely utter those words for fear of some imaginary rod coming down and branding me an irresponsible mom.

I’ve been trying to do better at things, a hair appointment here and a date there. The introduction of toddler Tuesday has been lifesaving as it gives me a kind of license to revel without overtly demanding something. Overall I think it’s good and that I have things figured out and then something happens.

It came like a shot of lightning through a clear sky.




No more babies.

It’s July and come fall I’ll have one daughter in kindergarten, one daughter in preschool and another experimenting with sentences and pedals. My perfect place as the axis of their world is shifting and, in an act of futile desperation, I am seizing a last wisp of ruffled nightgown and baby tendril.

Today was a blur of green sparkles and Elmer’s glue, pear-juice laced kisses and laughter. I sidled along casting dollhouse shadows with faeries and scarves. With any luck I’ll turn these last hours of now into days and as we hurtle into the first autumn of school days, I’ll have left a trail of seeds that will be perennials, bright and showy. Forever.