A Lament for Lazy Sundays

Vikki and Zeca I try not to think about what life would be like had we not had kids, try not to dwell on the distant memories of a clean house and disposable income. It's not like I accidentally got pregnant and ended up with kids. I chose to have a family and went to great lengths to get pregnant and bring our two crazy kids into the world.

Without a doubt, they have made me a better person because I want to be a good mother. They challenge me and force me to think about what I believe and value. They test me and I react and reveal those broken places in myself that come from my own past and I strive to heal them. I am honored by their trust in me and there are times when I know I've earned it and other times when it seems like blind faith.

I love them and they are good people.

But, sometimes, I miss the quiet and easy pace of my life before kids.

Before kids, Sundays were our quiet days. We slept late and then got up and had coffee and read. We'd lie on the couch and watch football before making a simple but delicious meal just for the two of us. In the evening, we'd read or watch a movie - the time was ours to do with as we pleased.

I miss those lazy Sundays.

This morning, I woke up at 7 a.m. and went downstairs to have coffee before the kids got up but Zeca was on my lap within moments of me sitting down. She squirmed and talked and I finally told her that she had to find something to so that I could have "quiet coffee time". She went to her room but I felt guilty. Later, she wanted to dance for us and then Miguel started complaining about sore muscles from his martial arts tournament yesterday.

Singing. Dancing. Complaints. Homework. Questions.

It never ends and, though I can ask for space, I can't expect them to disappear for the day. I can no longer do nothing all day without guilt.

So, I do my best. I hold my daughter and answer questions and make pumpkin muffins and give myself over to this different kind of Sunday.This is a good life, I know. But good can be hard too and, even with my daughter's arms wrapped around my neck while we sway in the kitchen, I can long for those other Sundays as well.