My foray into politics two columns ago proved to be interesting. Mistake made, lesson learned, so let’s get back to my mundane life as a working mom of four!
I must preface this tale of motherly despair by first stating I am not an emotional person; my husband Doo actually believes I have no soul. And on this particular morning, I was running on five hours of sleep and had already spilled my coffee while taking a roundabout like I was a Formula 1 driver, which I am not.
Suffice it to say, I was not in a good place as I drove to school, so I switched from depressing NPR to 100.9. That stupid “Tequila” song came on, and then bam, out of nowhere, it hit me: My babies are going off to college! (I experienced a similar revelation at Chick-fil-A with my oldest).
Point of fact, our 17-year old twins are not babies, nor have they been the babies for quite some time. Our youngest robbed them of that honor when she came along. But for whatever reason, at that moment, I realized that soon I would not be witnessing their Wonder Twin powers activate in the form of Australian accents and witty jabs. I would go months without seeing their sweet faces, now so much different than their pudgy toddler ones. Our Corinne-tin-tin and Hurricane Andrew will be on their own, making decisions and living their lives. Without me.
The tears burst forth just as I was taking another friggin’ roundabout, followed fairly quickly by laughter. We did it! Three down, one to go.
Doo might be right.