Trenches

A few years ago when my children were toddlers, a dear friend of mine, who raised seven children of her own, would often ask empathetically (when she recognized the madness, helplessness, and stress in my eyes) how I was managing life.  As I briefly unloaded on her, she would always hug me and say, "Oh, Shannon.  You are in the trenches!"

At the time, I didn't fully realize what she meant.  Yes, I was very busy with each and every minute of my day consumed with wiping noses and bottoms, making breakfast, lunch, and dinner, cleaning spills and messes, nursing babies in the middle of the night, washing laundry and dishes, etc, etc.  I knew I was busy.  I knew it was difficult.  But I didn't know that someday I would actually exit the trenches to see the bigger landscape ahead.

The past year or so, as the last of my babies exited the toddler phase and has become more independent, I've actually felt myself moving out of the trenches.  It has been a glorious feeling--like a certain weight being lifted from my shoulders.  I have been able to shed the constraints that come with raising babies and a sort of independence has taken its place.  It's an independence for my children and for myself as we both discover our abilities and limitations together.

What I'm saying is that I've moved through a major life transition.  And I kind of like it.

This is not to diminish the time I spent in the trenches with my babies.  I enjoyed that time immensely, as difficult as it was.  But now I'm looking forward to this new stage in my life, with young kids and pre-teens who are discovering their way in school, sports, family, and such.  It presents it's own challenges and I can see that the minutia of each day of a toddler is only being replaced with the broader scope of the activities of an older child.  I'm doing more taxiing, coordinating, scheduling, and assisting.  My circles of influence are increasing.

I'm finding myself with more time to do as I wish.  As school approaches this fall, I'll have a few quiet hours of each day until Karina returns from half-day kindergarten.  A few years ago, this situation seemed an impossibility to reach.  And yet, I find myself sitting squarely in the exact scenario I only dreamed of back then.

I'm reminded of the feeling I get when a new calendar year begins--the sort of clean slate feeling where I get to decide what to do with my open canvas.  I've exited the trenches to discover a new horizon and a world of possibilities and I'm excited to embark upon this new experience in my life.  I'm still unsure where my path will lead me.  I must be cautious this new sense of independence doesn't cloud my vision or detract from my goals to keep my family close and stable.  But I approach this time with a grateful heart.  Grateful for a difficult time to have passed and to have survived.  Grateful for dear friends who accompany me through these stages of life.  Grateful for the opportunity to learn and grow in new ways.  Grateful to be able to now see the forest for the trees--or at least part of it, anyway.  And it's a beautiful forest, indeed.