Enough is tough.
It is always changing, especially since I became a mom. I remember my free-flying college self who could move everything in my super-cool, totally impractical land-cruiser. Then came the drums of growing up. Houses. Health. Families.
When my boys were little it was all about sleep—there was never enough. With toddlers the measure was patience (for them but mostly for myself). Now we are on the time unit. The kids are busy, their lives are filling up with friends of their own (not the ones who are our friends’ kids), passions, ideas and schedules.
I remember how much I used to look forward to an evening out with other grownups. Now, I realize that evening plans mean I won’t see my kids in the mad rush called the-time-between-school-activities-sleep. And that mad rush is my only time with them.
I don’t get enough of my boys.
I might not ever.
They are spectacular people. In fact, they are my favorite people.
I can’t move everything in my decidedly un-cool, terribly practical car now. Because it is always filled with gear, an extra kid (or four), snacks, garbage, music, bickering, running late chaos. I can hardly fit in there. But I will shoe-horn myself into that car, this schedule, my sons’ lives. For all my reluctance to lose myself in this craziness, I realize that my life is finally, fully enough.
And then some.
This was originally published in Mamalode's print issue ENOUGH.
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