Waiting To Exhale (or even inhale)
I’m sitting in the car dealer, again, waiting for my car to be ready, again (yes, those two “agains” were on purpose). Between car accidents, car repairs, car rentals and regularly scheduled maintenance (which had to be postponed until after all the car repairs were complete), I’ve spent a lot of time waiting for cars to be ready.
Come to think of it, I’ve spent a lot of time recently waiting for many things.
The Princess is on a personal quest to accumulate as many plastic body parts at one time as possible, so I’ve spent a huge amount of time in doctor’s waiting rooms, waiting for diagnoses, and physical and occupational therapists waiting rooms, waiting for exercises to be completed. Am considering renaming her “Exoskeleton.”
Banana Girl is wrapping up her last year in elementary school, watching all the flurry of medical activity around the Princess, dealing with her peers and preparing for middle school. She’s waiting to get in on the attention action, so I’ve spent even more time with her waiting for her life-changing activities to occur. And dreading the future.
The Husband is crazy busy at work, so in between feeling, at times, like a single mom, I spend my evenings waiting to hear how late he’ll be home, whether or not I should make him dinner, if he’s making it on time for our evening activities and for goodnight calls to the kiddos. And I have a countdown going until this craziness is over (as does he, I’m sure).
Sleep-away camp is quickly approaching—9 days at last count. My packing lists have been sitting on the counter for weeks, but despite everyone’s enthusiasm about going, I have not been able to convince anyone to start packing. I can’t figure out what the heck I’m waiting for, but I think the kiddos are waiting to see if I’ll follow through on my threats. So tempted…
Meanwhile, I’m waiting for those three and a half weeks of bliss, when the kiddos will be away and my husband will be back from employment hell. If the car breaks down it won’t matter, because I won’t have anyone to carpool anywhere. The Princess and all of her plastic body parts will be someone else’s responsibility. Banana Girl will be in a different environment with friends who have been dying to see her for an entire year. The Husband will be around and able to have an entire conversation without the crackberry beeping every 20 seconds. And regardless of what packing has been completed or not, and who has ultimately chosen the clothes that are brought, I won’t have to listen to any clothing complaints.
And that alone is worth the wait!
