I used to sleep in on weekends. Head into downtown Manhattan. Walk around SoHo. Brunch with friends at funky cafés.
I’d wander through designer boutiques for hours, splurge on a new handbag, then have a $2 slice of the best pizza anywhere before heading onto the ferry back home.
Fast-forward to now.
Last weekend I was woken up before 7am by a five-year-old stabbing me in the face with my glasses. Later that afternoon, I dressed two balloons in cloth diapers and onesies, then watched Gnomeo & Juliet with my kids, my balloon Grandkids, and a mylar SpongeBob.
So, you know, pretty much the same thing.
But I gotta say: Sure, I may sleep less and weigh more and spend much less time with artsy hipsters, but [hides Mom Jeans] I think I’m still pretty cool. And definitely lucky.
My kids like me. Their friends dig me. Their friends’ parents invite me to get together socially without kids.
I moved to the ‘burbs for my family, losing a bit of my NYC Girl…sheen.
But I gained a lot more.
My kids are happy little buggers, and I’ve made close friends, who are also moms.
These friends are my Sanity Lifeline. We laugh, we cry, we share, we help each other. I’m a better mom, wife, friend and person because of them.
I wouldn’t have met them, if I wasn’t a mother.
Since I know they’ve got my back & they’re only a call/text/shout-out-the-window away? Every day is Mother’s Day for me. Which makes me feel pretty damn lucky.
Even if the price I pay for that luxury is spending my weekend afternoons on the couch with a slowly deflating SpongeBob by my side.