Long Day

My life is not my own. It has always belonged to the people who live with me. What I do and what I eat and where I go seems to be at others' beck and call and need. While this is especially true when your children are little, it doesn't go away when they grow up. The impact is different, but it still shapes you.

I had thought that once my children move out and I live by myself, I will be the one deciding when I rise and when I retire, what I eat and when, how I will spend the money I earn. I am beginning to suspect it is all a lie. With Drew's new job and the need to share a car, I find myself stranded and bumped about driven by the whims of his supervisor. Two days a week the boy must be at work by 7 am, and that means I must be at work by 6:30 am in order that he get where he needs to be. Sigh. OK. I am happy you have a job. You need a job. I just wish it didn't mean I had to sign on too.

Whine, grumble, gripe, complain. I am a crotchety old coot. Who would have thought such a small thing would make me so pouty! Really, I need to just get over it and be grateful. It's not so hard a thing. Besides, this is Drew's time to figure things out and plan ahead and get his act together. I ought to be grateful that he is trying so hard to succeed. Inhale. Exhale. This too shall pass.