What I Thought I Would Be Doing
by Nancy (Gonnee)


On an earlier post, we were discussing resentment of our children and the burdens they have placed on us when they refused to carry their own responsibilities. In the process, I started thinking about how our lives had changed since their arrival. Mind you, I am not talking about before B arrived, she is eleven and it seems like she has been with us always. No, I started reaching into the dim recesses of a year and ½ ago. That is a very short period in time, but a great distance in lives.

Yesterday, I had many many days of sick leave accumulated, and no need to use it. Today, I count my sick leave in hours and decide how to prioritize it. This month I get it because I have to have some dental work done. Next month it will be used on the boys as there are some appointments with specialist coming up, out of town visits at that.

Yesterday vacation time was a luxury I spent many hours dreaming how I was going to use. We have an old motor home that just beckoned us to fuel up and hit the road. The destination didn’t matter, it is a big country. North, South, East, or West, every road led to a new adventure, a new challenge and new friends our own age, with interests much the same as ours. We took collecting trips searching out parts for our old tractors; fishing trips getting freckles in the sun and tired in the fresh air. Friday night arrived, and if the call of adventure reached us, we were off, with plenty of room for B, her friend, her dog, and all of her Barbie Dolls. Today a vacation is any day I don’t have to leave the house for any one else’s needs.

Yesterday, Saturday meant that I could sleep until noon if I wished, read the latest steamy novel, paint my toenails and luxuriate in the bathtub with candles, bubble bath and thick Turkish bath towels that didn’t have to be bleached every time they were washed. Today I have washed 4 loads of laundry before noon, bleached the sheets and towels, because who knows what they have mopped up, and watched two episodes of “Blues Clues”. The steamy novel was traded in for an issue of “Parent Magazine”, courtesy of the pediatrician’s office. It lives on the back the toilet, because that is the only place we might have enough time to read it. The finger nail polish and bubble bath have gone the same direction as my mascara and lipstick. The last traces were wiped off the sides of the upstairs bathroom vanity last week.

Yesterday three years ago, I bought a hammock. I had visions of lazing in the shade out of the late afternoon sun and reading the evening paper. That hammock hasn’t been out of the box for two summers. Three years ago I laid out an area for a patio. I dug out the dirt and ordered in sand to create a firm foundation for this leisure-time luxury. Today that pile of sand and the shallow hole it is in makes a wonderful sandbox for two very lively little boys and their entire fleet of construction equipment. I contoured the yard, and configured the plantings for a gorgeous display of color for the entire growing season. Now a swing set sits in one corner of the yard, two red tricycles, a rusting red wagon, a green pedal tractor and a very small electric car provide color year round. An eleven year old, two small terrorists of the male variety, and their dogs rule the yard I had other visions for.

Yesterday two years ago, long winter evenings meant joining a bowling league, leaving my sewing machine set up and ready to sew quilts, and snuggling with Hubby watching adult television, whatever that was. If we wanted to watch an “r” rated movie, we sent B. to a friends house for a sleepover, and watched it. Sometimes we even got in a little of our own “r” rated action. Today, there is no money, let alone time for bowling. God forbid that I should leave out my sewing machine, no single part would remain within calling distance of another part. Quilts are something that other people give you because they recognize the fact that you can never have too many clean blankets in a house of children. If snuggling is something I want, two dogs, two terrorists, an eleven year old and her Bratz dolls, my hubby and myself all pile into our king sized bed and take on an episode or two of Bambi or some other perennial favorite from Disney.

We have no friends. At least we have none we socialize with on a regular basis. We have relatives with kids, nieces and nephews anyway. I have friends I work with. Hubby has friends he hunts and shoots and kibitzes with while the kids are at Head Start. If I leave the house in the evening, It is to attend a policy meeting of the local Head Start parents board. The people there are the same age as my first set of children. We discuss colds, potty training and keeping track of mittens, hats and snow pants at the local head start. I offer someone the clothes that the terrorists have out grown, but everyone there has kids bigger and usually older than the ones that hold us captive.

When I was forty, my youngest child, the mother of the terrorists went to her second grade class and announced that mom had turned forty. When I turned fifty, B, went to that same teacher and announced to her class that Granny had turned the big five-oh. As I started writing this , it dawned on me that one of these terrorists will be the right age to go to that same teacher in their second grade room and announce that Granny is turning 60. The irony of it is that the teacher is my age and one with whom I have long worked. She however has no terrorists in her house.

Do I resent the fact that I will turn sixty doing the things that I was doing at twenty and thirty and forty? No, not really, for how many people have the opportunity to go back and enjoy the best times of their lives? I only hope and pray that my health and that of my life-mate will allow us to do it. Would I trade what I have for what I thought I would have? No, not for all the bowling leagues and bubble bath and fishing trips in a life time. This is where it is and what life is all about!