Before my youngest daughter was set to start preschool, I envisioned all the delightful ways I could fill my newfound free time. Every time I passed an antique store, I made mental notes, picturing myself lounging in the steam room at our gym. “I’m starting to prune,” I’d chuckle to the other moms as they relaxed on Thursday mornings. “Time to hop out and catch that movie!”
I planned to dive into the Lost Generation section of the library, and with that inspiration, finally write my novel at one of the charming local coffee shops—none with drive-thrus, of course. I pictured myself tending to vibrant flower boxes and adorning my windows with thoughtful holiday decorations. The car rides would be serene, featuring nostalgic throwback gangster rap, with no squabbling children in the back seat as I cruised around town.
Every activity I dreamed of but couldn’t do with kids was tucked away in my ever-growing collection of Fantasy Plans. With two hours and twenty minutes of precious me-time twice a week, my aspirations felt within reach. I had long believed in the importance of personal time to recharge—filling my pitcher so I could pour into my kids. After two exhausting years, my pitcher was running dry.
The first week, I had to handle some errands: a long-overdue doctor’s appointment followed by new brakes for the car. No biggie—I had a whole year ahead of me to chase my dreams. The next week, my middle daughter’s birthday required my full attention: gifts, cake, party decorations, a piñata, and candy. By the time I picked up my kids on that second day, I was frazzled and hadn’t managed to do a single enjoyable thing for myself. But hey, I still had the whole year!
Then came the virus of the month, and my eldest daughter fell ill. I found myself exasperated. “What do you mean I can’t drop her off if she’s vomiting?” I shouted to the teacher, dragging my pale daughter back to the car. “You said all the kids have it. Just give her a trash can and let her sit in the corner! I want to go to the steam room!”
Soon, one commitment led to another. “Sure, I’ll help with the buzz books!” I said to my middle daughter’s teacher. “Of course I can set up for the book fair!” I blurted out to the room mom for my eldest. “Wait, you need homemade purple Play-Doh by when?”
Before I knew it, my schedule was packed. “Yes, I can clean my teeth on Friday.” I spent hours searching for size 4 Capezio tights in Light Toast. “Blueberry muffins for Grandparents’ Day? Sure!” I even committed to bringing my famous veggie lasagna for a new mom. “You need a cable repair guy? I can set that up!” I found myself hosting a wedding shower that weekend.
Somewhere along the way, I lost track of my Fantasy Plans. By December, I was overwhelmed with holiday preparations. The pressure of matching Christmas pajamas loomed over me, and the joy of the season felt more like a chore. I blinked, and suddenly all my spare moments were consumed.
In my optimistic mindset, I believed that the new year would finally bring my dreams to fruition. With four hours of peaceful mornings each week on the horizon, I vowed to protect that time. But by February, reality hit hard. I spent that entire morning scouring three Office Depots for printer ink, and my novel remained a jumble of notes in a worn-out notebook.
As March rolled around, our Christmas wreath still dangled, cobwebs and all, on the front door. I was back to square one, grappling with the demands of household management. Why did the school need so many cookies? Why were we perpetually out of stamps?
Despite my resistance, the boundaries between my life and that of my children began to fade. Now in our third year of preschool, I’ve had only a few fleeting moments of my Fantasy Plans. A walk here, breakfast with a friend there, but mostly, I just hold on to the hope that kindergarten is only two years away. Please, don’t burst my bubble.
For more insights on managing life as a parent, check out this article on home insemination and visit Cryobaby for expert resources on home insemination. For additional parenting tips, CCRM IVF’s blog is an excellent resource.
Summary:
This article explores the author’s dreams of reclaiming personal time as her youngest daughter prepares for preschool. However, the reality of parenting quickly derails her plans, leading to a humorous reflection on the blurred lines between her life and her children’s demands. Despite the chaos, she holds on to the hope of finding time for herself once kindergarten arrives.