Balanced Living…What Does It Feel Like

I have to say that as a teenager, I had my social life under control. No really, I mean I didn’t know it at the time, but I had a social calendar and I wasn’t pressed and running all over here and there.  I was organized.  I was doing quite well for someone my age.  I am an only child so my parents basically always talked to me like I was an adult.  So, yea, even if I didn’t know it then, I was pretty stable.

Then, I went to college.  I still did pretty well.  My father had died and left me with enough of a college fund to finish school without working.  So, I just did a few little odd jobs here and there, babysitting and whatever came along.  I played a lot of softball (like over 200 games one summer) and I never seemed to be running around like a crazy woman.

Somewhere between the age of about 24….and the age of 34….I magically lost my mojo.  I mean, yes, I had my first kid at 34 and we all know that throws a crank in even the best laid plans.  But, geeez, couldn’t I just schedule a few maneuvers here and there, go a few places without major breakdowns and forgetting half of what I needed?  Why all of the sudden was this so difficult?

And, just as we were working some sort of normalcy into our life….along comes baby number 2, 10 weeks on bedrest with a 18 month old, 3 herniated disks in my back, a premature baby, a failure to thrive baby, a hysterectomy, back surgery and holy cow we were spiraling out of control and fast.

And, then, then my husband just basically took control.  I’ve mentioned this more than once but in our house, that’s not typically how it is done.  I am the organizer, I am the one who handles all the crisis around here.  But, for a few years there, he had to just get a grip.  We needed some balance in our life.

And, my husband took over.  I’ve slowly taken back all things that don’t require major decision making (which we do together) and he basically sits back and enjoys the ride.  But, as I blogged about my trip to Miami this week, I broke down, I had a broken foot (I broke it while in Miami) and I was sitting on a concrete wall, I couldn’t walk and I couldn’t even think well enough to get a taxi.

I took my shoe off for the first time that day (some 8 hours after the accident), looked down and watched as my foot slowly bafooned up into……a monster.  (A cute little foot, that’s what the flight attendants were still calling it today, 2 days later).  I just cried and cried.  It was a mile walk back to the hotel and I couldn’t even get myself together to get in one of the cabs (there were 5 or 6) sitting there.

Later, I re-gained my composure, made some decisions and went on about my business.  Then, last night, whilst chatting online from the airport, my husband realizes that their was a mistake in my flights and I had missed my flight by 24 hours.  Again, I flipped.  I lost it.  I didn’t think I could handle anymore.

These are exactly the kinds of issues I handle in our relationship on a normal basis.  But as I sat in the floor of an empty airport with my leg elevated on a suitcase, I begin to cry.  He was trying to tell me what to do, who to call, how to handle it.

I begged him, “Please just take care of this one, I’m begging you, I can’t”. He gave me a line about the ticket being in my name and I remember saying, “but Jerri is a universal name, please just call and take care of this”.

And, he did.  I’m home now, bound to the bed and recliner til I can get to the doctor on Monday, but I am not a nervous wreck.  I can make my own decisions.  I can make the decisions for my family.

Yea, we have our mojo (or balance if you will) back…now we can continue on…

“This post was written for Parent Bloggers Network as part of a sweepstakes sponsored by BOCA.”