As I drove to my PD today across town this morning, I marveled at how easy it was for me to just go to work like so many other grownups. I woke up, went for a run, showered and dressed, and chatted over coffee with my husband before we headed out the door and went our separate ways. As I waited at a stoplight, I looked at the woman in the next lane and wondered, “What did she have to do to be able to go to work on a day when school is out?” Did she have to arrange a babysitter? Fix them breakfast? Prepare lunch ahead of time and leave it in the fridge? Come up with a schedule for the day to keep them happily engaged in rewarding activities? Does she even have kids? Maybe her partner arranged it all…
Anyway, what did I have to do? Nothing. My kids would be asleep for a minimum of two more hours. They would get up, maybe half-heartedly argue about what constitutes too much time in the bathroom, and make themselves breakfast. They’d arrange their own activities for the day, and possibly contact me with requests for more screen time. I didn’t really have to do anything, yet as I settled into my seat a few minutes before the start of the presentation, I couldn’t help but send them a text: “Good morning! Please eat a healthy breakfast and take the dog for a long walk TOGETHER. Get your homework done and read a while before you get on screens.” As I hit the send arrow, I knew, as much as they would a few hours later, that this message was mostly for me.
My Corner of the Village 