My transition to
working mom has not been/ is not graceful. I loved being a stay at home mom for
five years; it was a season of peace, purpose and fulfillment. It wasn’t easy
or without its challenges, but it was the trench I wanted to be in. When we
moved back to California last year it became a necessity for me to go back to
work. I’m beyond grateful to have a job thirty hours a week that is
interesting, creative and flexible with my role as mom. The issue isn’t going
back to work, my job, the kids, or Mark— the problem is me. I’ve been trying to cram thirty hours
of stay at home mom life into our new world and schedule.
Special occasions
are when things usually get messy. Take one look at our life here at Casa
Watson and you can see how much I love holidays, celebrating and busting out my
magic crafty box. I’ve always been fond of Valentine’s Day. The forced romance
part is fine (it kicks our bums into finding a babysitter) but I have always loved
the chance to spread a little love all around. I believe in handmade cards with
doilies and glitter, I believe in heart shaped sugar cookie surprises, I
believe in special breakfasts, I believe in “Galantine’s Day.”
Then the last couple of weeks happened. Business trip to Chicago, followed by houseguests, followed by high fever
Clara for three days (and three long nights), followed by Valentine shenanigans
at both the preschool and kindergarten and oh yeah, a renewal of vows ceremony
at church. Cupid didn’t aim for my heart; he went straight for the knees and
knocked me face first into my chocolate chip scones and conversation heart fantasies.
MY fantasies. MY
expectations. It was God shining a glaring light (which wasn’t appreciated,
since my no sleep nights had left me with such dark under-eye circles) on the
who/what/why/where of it all. There was no way for me to make all the magic
happen, it forced me to assess what was imperative and prioritize from there. What
mattered most to the kids? What mattered most to me? (And thankfully, I live
with a man who is happiest when I’m happy).
Handmade
valentines were for immediate family members only. The kids were thrilled to
give their friends Ninjago and Scooby Doo drugstore specials. We cut the
renewal of vows evening short, attending just the service and not the party
afterward. Our family breakfast celebration was pushed from Thursday to
Saturday. I made it to Ben’s kindergarten party and but didn’t get to Clara’s.
The father/daughter dance was skipped and replaced with a family movie night
snuggled down with Lady and the Tramp. We had a great date night but didn’t
stay out late.
We couldn’t do it
all, but that didn’t mean all was lost. I kept what made me happy, what made
memories that mattered and tried to let go of the rest, let go of the
unrealistic pressure to have everything stay the way it used to be.
On Saturday, post
cute breakfast (and a lighting round of housecleaning), we headed down to the
beach to soak in the sunshine. The kids worked for hours building a sandcastle
in the tide, laughing every time it was washed away and racing to build it up
again. Mark and I lounged under the umbrella, letting the peace and rest of the
waves lull us as the kids played. On our walk home I spotted this perfect
heart-shaped rock just sitting in the sand. Tucking this treasure in my pocket,
still warm with sun, I held tight to this physical, literal, how clear do you
need it, Leah? reminder to always get to the heart of the matter.
My answer is
always the same: love, grace, family and a little bit of glitter.
