It’s Friday afternoon before Memorial Day weekend. The air conditioned coffee shop is full, so I’m under an umbrella outside checking off To-Do list tasks as I complete them in the 90 degree shade. Good thing I skipped makeup today, because sweat is dripping down my temple. From the heat. And stress.
I hate that I don’t look forward to Memorial Day. I split myself into pieces to be everything to everyone and family time sometimes turns into forced family fun.
I’m a mom.
This means I am charged with monitoring video game time, planning playdates, slathering sunscreen on my son often enough, and ensuring everyone in the family eats healthy meals, which means at least two trips to the grocery store and guilt over not wanting to cook the darn food. And definitely Facetiming my daughter in New York, and inviting my oldest son and his fiance over to feed them, because adults kids are wonderful.
But, sometimes I take a package of Chips Ahoy cookies into the laundry room and scroll Instagram with a mouthful when I should be slicing fruit and mixing Greek yogurt dips.
I’m a wife.
This means I am charged with monitoring my part of the healthy relationship my husband and I aspire to. I make sure I hold my tongue when he annoys me in the kitchen, give him space while allowing myself space, but connect during the small passing moments that matter, pick an off-the-shoulder top from the juniors department for our treasured date night, and make sure I pretend I’m over my social media addiction by laying my phone face down when he wants to talk about tile for the kitchen backsplash. I also relish mornings with him until the dogs jump on the bed and set their butts on our faces and kill the romance.
I’m a writer and podcaster
This means my work follows me even in my dreams. My current book revisions scroll through my brain while I do dishes and clean off the deck to prepare for our big family Memorial cookout, and I stop frequently to find a scrap of paper lying around the house on which to scribble new genius lines. I script, schedule and record podcasts when guest are available, which means early this Sunday morning will be spent online with a guest in the Middle East before searching for the scraps of paper I scribbled on the day before and will never find. Oh, and I can’t forget to plan social media posts at the correct intervals to remind my followers just how together I am at all times of the day so they will listen to the kick-ass podcasts I’m producing and read the also very awesome memoir I’m finishing.
Ok, I feel better now. These are all things that I am incredibly lucky to stress about. On Memorial Day, I going to say a little prayer to the universe for the soldiers who gave their lives so that I could juggle all that I do. I’m a mom, a wife, a writer and podcaster. I’m an American. And I feel grateful.