All is well....

I'm not sure what just happened.  I put my boys to bed exactly seven minutes ago, and I think they are both asleep.  Can it be?  MY boys?  This must be a record.  TJ and Chris usually make a sport out of torturing Mom at bed time. I would not be surprised if the two of them huddle-up and take bets  to see how far they can push me before I blow my lid. 
Most nights I feel like I'm living in an episode of the Super Nanny.  I stand in the middle of the boys bedroom watching TJ use the closet shelf as monkey bars and Chris doing somersaults off the bed and wonder "How did I completely loose control in 30 seconds?"  That's all it takes.  We are normally a nice civilized family.  After dinner the boys can be found quietly playing hotwheels or doing homework.  But then I dare to say those two words  "BED TIME" and the reaction is instantaneous.  I'm convinced that before I left the hospital with my baby boys one of the nurses hypnotized them to immediately turn into lunatics when they hear thoses two words.  It's like a switch has been flipped and it doesn't get turned off until they pass out from pure exhaustion.  This nurse must have also found a way for it to only work with my voice - because I get reports from babysitters and grandparents that the boys "were angels" for them. 
So tonight I will sit here in my quiet house with my sleeping boys and savor every minute until Tom gets home.  What shall I do?  Read?  Take a bath?  Nope.  Think I'll go to bed.  Good Night, it's Bed Time.

My life is a dance

I have a 20 minute commute to work every morning - I know, some would not consider 20 minutes much of a "commute". But still, I savor that 20 minutes of quiet after the chaotic rush of getting myself and the boys up and out the door. It is time to compose myself and get ready for my day ahead. Most days my thoughts are filled with lists; pay the electric bill, call back so-and so, etc. But some days I branch out and start contemplating life - dangerous territory because I usually come to the conclusion that I need to make dramatic changes. Fortunately for Tom, this only lasts for a few days before I fall back into the realization that my life isn't so bad and I just need to focus on successfully getting through each day. But still, those moments of deep contemplation in the car keep me grounded.
One morning last week I was allowing my mind to wander freely and the song "I hope you Dance" by Leann Womack wandered in. (Don't be surprised, my brain is often tuned in to it's own station) As I hummed along to the music in my head, I began to wonder whether I had "danced" through life. My first thought was "yeah I've danced alright, I do the "Two-Step"every day - Two steps forward and two steps back". I then spent the next 15 minutes trying to decide what type of dance best describes my life. I concluded that my life is more a compilation a several different types of dances.

There are times when my life is a Waltz. Tom, my dance partner, and I swing big beautiful circles in perfect step to rhythm of our life. We are organized and in sync with each other. We seem to glide effortlessly around all others in our world.

At other times there is no doubt that my life is a Mosh Pit. Yesterday, for example, I woke up a half-hour early and still managed to lose my keys, forget Chris' lunch. and nearly miss TJ' s bus . These are days that I feel I am just bumping into everyone I meet and at the end of the day I've nothing to show but a couple of bruises. If you've ever been in a Mosh pit you can relate.

The last dance my life can relate to is the Square Dance. This is when I feel there is a "caller" dictating my days. Even if I wanted to dosey-doe with my partner, the caller of my life demands I join the group in the middle. To be fair, just as a dancer voluntarily joins the square dance, I voluntarily make commitments, which inevitably end up feeling like obligations. Some days I just rather sit at home and play Hot wheels with Chris.

My dance style changes often and It's hard to say whether it is I or my surroundings that change. But I can feel myself ebb and flow out of these distinct styles, sometimes from day to day. Such is the rhythm of life - dancing to the music of children screaming, phones ringing, and TVs blaring. I wouldn't have it any other way.