Busy

We’re not. Busy, that is. At least, not compared to others out there who have almost constant activities, places to be, things to do.

Alyssa has gymnastics on Thursdays. It runs from 6:15 to 7:15.

That’s it for our weekly scheduled activities.

But each evening, when we walk in the door at about 5:45, I feel like we’re sprinting toward bedtime. It feels like there is just enough time to make dinner, eat dinner, clean up after dinner, maybe bathe a child or two and suddenly, it’s 7:30 and time to be reading to Olivia and then scratching her into slumber.

Once O’s asleep, Alyssa attaches herself to my side for at least a half hour, soaking me in. And I soak her in too. I know these moments are numbered, these times when she wants to be next to me, touching me, laughing with me, watching inane television with me.

When Alyssa finally drops off, I have about ten minutes until it’s time for me to go to sleep too. Though I usually turn those ten minutes into an hour because, hello, alone, I’m ALL ALONE. Have I mentioned that I need alone time to recharge so that I can give my all to those around me who want all of me? Yes? It cannot be repeated often enough.

Our one truly busy day, Thursday is just hectic enough that I don’t relish the idea of adding more days like that to the week. I get of work at 4:30, I drive directly to my mom’s, 18 miles away, where the girls are hanging out after school. When I arrive, Alyssa takes that as her cue to change into her gymnastics clothes. I find a ponytail holder because I know she’ll forget. I find Olivia’s shoes and socks (she takes them off the instant she walks in the door at my mom’s. She says her feet are sweaty and she hates sweaty feet.) and make her let me put them on her. I gather coats and backpacks.

We are usually pulling out of the driveway 20 minutes after I get there and head back to town.

Olivia and I wait in uncomfortable chairs for an hour while Alyssa flips and bends and swings and balances. She loves the class. And I love that she loves it. But the waiting? Boring. I’ve already let her know that Olivia and I might have to start making mini trips…somewhere during that hour. Just because I get tired of trying to entertain O. I know, I could leave her home with Tom but she doesn’t’ want to stay home with him and any working mom will understand that I’m already away from my girls 40+ hours a week, even one more hour (two if you count travel time) feels like too much.

So, we’re not busy even though it often feels like we are. Or perhaps busyness is in the eye of the beholder. What seems like busy to some feels relaxed and easy to others and what seems frantic and insane to one person will just feel like everyday busyness to another.