Sometimes, I wonder when, as a parent and a teacher, I get to have a life again. When will I get to go to movies, have coffee with friends, go on dates with my spouse, go dancing, read novels, sing in the church choir, plan a day without considering lesson prep or naptime, be on the computer or watch tv whenever it strikes my fancy, spend hours in bookstores...? When will I live again?
And at other times, I realize what a silly, silly question this is.
As parents, and as teachers, writers, doctors, lawyers, priests, therapists, managers, entrepreneurs, or whatever, we are not here to "have a life," we're here to live one. This one, right here. It's pretty easy to get caught up in the swirl of daily life, and to resort to casting myself as a pawn of fortune, at the mercy of others and of circumstance. When I start wondering when I get to have a life, there are two problems:
1) I am not living my life. I am so busy worrying about what I'm missing out on, what fun is happening without me, that I am missing out on what is actually happening. When we pout and fume about what we're not doing, we also fail to be doing what we are, um, doing.
and 2) I'm casting myself as the victim, not the hero in my story. When I get a role in my own life as the victim, I am totally robbed of my power. The power to create, to love, to work on being human, this is a huge, fantastic, gorgeous gift from God. Self-pity is like saying, "Thanks for the one-of-a-kind pearl tiara made just for me (or whatever other precious, amazing giftie you want to plug in there), but it's not my style." Uh, no.
So, when do I get to have a life? I have a freaking AMAZING life. I am so grateful for it. When they say, "In all things, give thanks," or "Rejoice in the Lord always," or "Cultivate gratitude," it's not some Pollyanna Glad Game BS. When stuff is really awful, it's really awful, but I don't sit around thinking, "Gosh, I just want an hour along in Barnes and Noble." When there's seriously bad stuff going down, I'm too busy trying to breathe, or yelling for help, or dwelling in it and letting myself experience what I'm experiencing, or doing What Must Be Done, to waste time in self-pity.
I'm working in a school that was new to me this year, with another new first grade class, and I am having to work my butt off. But having to work hard? That's a world-rocking gift. My son is 2 1/2. Every morning, he is UP and ready to play before 6:15 am. He is a non-stop teacher of living in the moment, of loving the world, of patience and full-tilt love.
I do an awful lot of grumbling about my lively class, about my loud, stompy, treat-demanding son. I'd love to complain less, to do more, to get up and say, well, I would love to go to a bookstore, I would love to read a novel. And then? Then I can say,
"YES! and let's make it happen."
or
"Nope. This other thing is what I am CHOOSING, for a valid reason, right now."
Choice. Power. Gratitude.
I have a life. I am living my life. And when I'm not, may someone kick my ass right back into shape, so I can get back to the real work I'm here to do.
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