My summer office is closed up. I made it through the first full week of kids back in school coupled with their activities. And this past weekend, I was beat. So very, very tired.
Before the weekend even started I let my daughter know, “I will only ‘drop you off and pick you up’ one weekend night so choose wisely.”
She willingly scrounged up rides to the other places she wanted to go, but without a full understanding of why I couldn’t just take her.
And I remember when I didn’t fully understand.
When it was dark and I stood out on the sidewalk and sighed. When I exhaled loudly and dropped my backpack on the ground. When I threw up my hands and walked around in a circle. When I paced and was aghast that my mother was late to pick me up from volleyball practice.
Or when I’d pick at the dinner kindly made for me and think, I don’t feel like this, even though I’d been asked numerous times earlier what I felt like for dinner.
Or whenever my mom would write a check in the grocery store line or either of my parents would stop for gas “on the way home” and I’d feel my skin prickle with heat and my heart race with impatience.
I find it mortifying that I even had those thoughts. To admit that I was so impatient and unable to see past my own needs, but I suppose all children act this way at one time or another.
At least, that is what I remind myself when I get a similar reaction from my children as to why I cannot pick them up one more evening in a row at 11pm from across town, or why I cannot drop everything and take them to the mall/lacrosse field/Lego store that instant, or why we are having bean and cheese quesadillas for the second night in a row, or why I have to quickly stop at the grocery store “on the way home.”
I notice their sighs, their rolled eyes, their impatience, but curiously it doesn’t rile me up. They have no way of knowing how much work it takes to be a parent. They won’t know until they have children of their own. I shrug it off and simply say to them, “I’m only one person.”
And so, here at the start of the school year, I remind myself that I am a mother, yes, a wife, yes, but I’m also a woman with goals and ambitions that lie outside of my family roles. I try to guard my time. Become almost selfish about it as I strive to find the right balance between all of the directions I’m pulled. And yet, I’m still only one person. Not always finding balance…but trying.
To my children, I usually follow-up the “I’m only one person” with “Help me out here people. There’s 3 of you and 1 of me. I’m just tryin’ my best.”
And really isn’t that what we should expect from ourselves? Not perfection, but to just try our best?
|Bean and Cheese Quesadillas||
- 10 flour or corn tortillas
- 1 15-oz can of black beans, drained and rinsed
- shredded cheese – cheddar, Monterey Jack, etc.
- olive oil
- 1 avocado, peeled and sliced
- sour cream
- Heat a heavy-bottomed skillet (my favorite is a cast iron skillet) over medium heat.
- Sprinkle some beans and cheese evenly over one quesadilla and top it with another.
- Brush the top quesadilla with olive oil and carefully brush your skillet with olive oil.
- Lay your quesadilla in the pan and cook until nicely browned on one side, about 2 minutes. Then, flip and cook another 2 minutes, or so.
- Take care that the quesadilla does not brown too quickly. You may need to turn your heat down. Take the quesadilla out of the pan when the cheese is melted and both sides are nicely browned.
- Cut into triangles.
- Top each triangle with a couple slices of avocado, a scoop of salsa, and a dollop of sour cream.