It's Okay. I've Got Kids To Set Me Straight.

If everyone in the world threw their problems into one big pile,

you'd be surprised how quickly you would grab yours back.

Thus said the middle as we sat around the table discussing whether or not I am in the midst of a midlife crisis. The youngest had embarked on her list of reasons of why I should not complain: I am not homeless. I am not a starving child in Africa. I do not have to beg for money to buy food. I am not in an abusive marriage. I am healthy. I have a car to drive. I have a friend. I have Jesus in my heart. And, my personal favorite, not every woman in the world is as lucky to have a daughter like her.

Okay, okay. I get their point. I was just so down the other day. I really thought I had a good lead on a job that was meant to be mine. When it wasn't and I was back home folding laundry that has jumped multiple sizes in the last five years... well, I don't know what to say. When that cloud overcomes me, it's just so darn easy to forget all the good that has happened and is still happening all around me.

Good grief. Maybe I don't want to work anyway. The Lord knows I love the whole homemaking thing. I mean, I wear an apron when I cook and a bandana over my hair when I clean. I like to stand on the front porch when the kids leave for school and sit on that same porch when they get home. But if I don't work, then what's the point of that degree that I'm TEN weeks away from getting?

Speaking of which, I priced planed tickets for the husband and I to fly out on the appointed day in May so I could walk across the stage to receive that hard-sought after piece of paper. Almost $800 not counting a rental car, hotel, and food. Well, I can live without that, but you better believe I'm going to plan a party. Maybe I'll combine that with the graduation of the oldest, but a par-tay it shall be.

Now I listen as the youngest sits and marks days on her calendar:

Seventy-one days till school's out (depressing sigh).

You mean I have to get up early on my first day of summer vacation (indignant sigh).

I'm going to be fourteen this year, Mom (happy sigh).

She talks about eighth grade dances and clothes and sings non-stop. The middle pulls his hair in a ponytail and tries on knee pads and elbow pads and sports a new helmet. We are the only ones at the table while the other two men of the house fight virtual battles on separate computers. One black cat peaks at me over the top of the dining room table. Another gray cat slinks his way to the food bowl. It's all quite comical and sad and twisted when you think about it... the way I mourn what I don't have and miss what is right in front of my face.

He's right. I would gladly grab my problems back because somehow, they don't seem like problems anymore.   Sheesh. Who needs therapy when I've got teenagers to set my world straight. Crazy kids. It almost makes me tear up now thinking of all those endless books I read to them when they were little or all those cookies and cups of milk I served in those early years. All that banging of the pots and pans and wooden spoons on the floor of the kitchen while I cooked just to have them near. The countless hours of rocking in a chair and singing the same lullabyes just to soothe their troubles.

Who knew I was pouring all that into them so they could later pour into me.

I'm telling you, that's a revelation in itself. I might have to think on that some more.

Besides, two kids have left the table and two men have arisen from their virtual sleep.

God had that timed out right. ;)