WHINE ALERT: LEVEL RED
When I quit my job after Vivi was born, I started taking piano lessons as a way to keep my brain from going to mush and to give me an immediate sense of accomplishment that would otherwise be sorely absent. How gloriously selfish! How completely extravagant! Some women pamper themselves with mani’s and pedi’s. Some women actually get their hair cut more than once or twice a year. I splurge on piano lessons.
The lessons used to be one of my very favorite things … a highlight of my week. I loved practicing and learning and progressing. I surprised myself by the pieces I had been able to master.
Sadly, lessons with three children in attendance have increasingly become a three-ring circus, not to mention the fact that I have no time to practice, especially with Bryan’s demanding schedule. The needs of my two wee ones consume every waking moment, all of my brain cells, and every ounce of energy. I try to practice when Baby Tad is awake, and he pounds on the piano keys. His naps are the only time I have to effectively accomplish any of my domestic duties.
And so today, I had to make a sad call to my dear piano teacher who, over the last three years has really become like a second mother to me, and tell her that I need to drop out of piano lessons … at least for the time being.
And even as I try to write this, with tears streaming down my face, Vivi is calling from the bathroom because she needs me to wipe her bum and Baby Tad is bawling because he wants to go in and splash in the toilet.
Some days I have a good perspective on my role as a stay-at-home mom. Some days I know that everything is going to be okay. Some days I know that my kids will grow up too quickly and that I will miss the bum wiping and that the sight of an unprotected electrical outlet will bring a tear to my eye.
Today is not one of those days.
