Pendulum Swing

Last night, EJ made dinner with her Daddy for me. It was such a delightful night, I took pictures and posted about the evening right away. She was full of energy and so excited to be a chef, despite having the touch of a runny nose, which I figured was allergies, nothing serious.

Sigh.

Last night, she developed that yucky, dry, hacking cough that the kiddos get when their "seems like allergies" symptoms turn out to be a cold virus. She's staying home this morning, with the hope that a little rest will turn this around quickly.

I was so high on our nice evening last night, I made even more mental plans than normal for today. Finish up some writing I've been working on. Clean out the pantry. Start laying in the content pieces of my updated resume into the design I created for it. Good stuff, that based on today's turn of events, will have to remain good intention for a short while longer.

Sigh.

Every time I watch a daytime program or read a women's magazine that purports, "Make time for yourself first---you can't help others if you don't help yourself, Mom!" I think of days like today. Days when, I was riding up on one side if a pendulum ride a few hours ago, and before I knew what was happening, I was free-falling and swinging to the other side. It's not that I'm not ever taking time for myself, it is simply that I can't reliably tell when that time will swing away from me, or swing back, for that matter. Even on the pendulum, I can hit work deadlines, take care of sick kids, and manage to fill in the gaps created by my husband's often unpredictable lab schedule, but there is a cost to the ride, and the cost is simply having a sense of time to reliably schedule my own stuff.

I'm not disillusioned---my time was not simply my own before I had a child, or even before I was married. I guess the pendulum has gotten bigger with each added responsibility---the highs are higher, the swings are more thrilling, and the key to staying on safely is always keeping one hand securely fastened, because anything could happen. I'm not complaining---I like the ride---I just forget sometimes that I am on it, then when my stomach comes creeping into my chest as we start to swing, I think, "oh, right, here we go!"

For now, it is back to my kid on the couch in her pink snuggie. Yeah, that's right. Her snuggie. I've got coffee in hand, a smile on my sleepy face, and despite the sickness, no where else I'd rather be.