I sat down to write something altogether different than what my mind has wandered to now, all because of a typo…
I’m not sure what it means that I began this entry by writing the date as 2005, but it certainly makes me look back and take stock… Five years ago today I was still in school at UNT, miserably overweight and fighting for a relationship that was barely afloat. I worked quite happily for a school that was also dying, despite my best efforts to keep it sailing along through shark infested waters. Uno y Dos were 9 and 11, paddling their way through 3rd grade and the first year of middle school, respectively. My mother still lived with me in a home we had recently moved into that, for a reason I will never know, our cat delighted in decking out with small, dead rodents and reptiles.
Flash forward five years and I am no longer in school, but still working for a school. Granted, it’s not the same one – my new school is a dynamic melting pot of ideas and development, though it is sometimes difficult to find the same sense of fulfillment when you’re a little fish in such a deep, wide ocean. I’ve gone from trying to force a man to love me to being deeply in love with a man that loves me beyond anything I knew was possible (I know, I know! I annoy myself with the level of mush that I exude these days). My two boys are now in high school and middle school and I struggle daily with thoughts of waving goodbye as they drive off to college and I crumple into a sobbing mess of motherly emotions. Thankfully, I’ve added three blue-eyes darlings to the mix, as I am now (step)mother to a seven-year-old boy, six-year-old boy, and three-year-old diva-in-training. I always wanted a houseful of children and now I have them. Our tiny home is bubbling over with toys, laundry, laughter, and of course, the groans and grumbling of a family of seven attempting to fit into a house for four. It definitely keeps us close; we’ve no choice but to figure out how to make things work or it doesn’t take long for clothes, toy, trinkets, schoolwork, and who-knows-what-else to begin piling up on any free surface in the house. My mother no longer lives with me, but miles away just outside the windy city, dealing with the recent loss of her own mother, and enjoying time with her own sisters and old high school friends. The cat, does however, still live with us, but happily has stopped inundating the home with his nightly finds.
I can’t deny that I love my life; I’m happier than ever, and eager to see what this year, and all those to come, has to offer. Last night as Isaac and I discussed our goals for the future, we realized that we have many reasons to take the very best care of ourselves as possible, because we want to be around to share our joy with our children, to run and play with our grandchildren, and to still have the energy and ability to enjoy exploring the world when we are old and wrinkled. Later, as I lay down to sleep, snuggled close against his chest, I couldn’t help but smile into the darkness, hopeful for the future and, for once, sure of my footing and my place in the world.