Sunday, April 3, 2011

Tonight I'm Almost Ready

Lucas, looking a "widdle bit wuwwied" about momma's return to work...

It's a work night. That's right, kids. Tomorrow, momma heads back to work. I'm feeling pretty confident, seeing as how God gave all six of the Roberts a cold for the occasion. Wow. They say He won't give us more than we can handle, so I'm thinking He thinks I can handle a lot!

Seriously, I'm good. I'm ready to take on this beast, to continue to be among the ranks of kick-ass working mothers who get things done in big ways.

I spent a couple hours in my work town, which is not only a college town but my college town, on Friday night. And I remembered then how much I miss it. Rumbling brick streets, happy spring-lovin' college kids, great eats and some incredible legendary people. Hello, Athens! How I love thee.

So tomorrow I'll be rockin' it. I'll be throwing bottles in bags, packing breast pump parts like a pro, tossing scraps of food into my lunch bag, changing last-minute dirty diapers, carrying at least five bags and strapping in four kids, and, hopefully, doing it all with a little bit of grace so that I don't scar my kids for the rest of their lives.

After I April-fooled myself on Friday by driving 15 minutes to a Zumba class before I remembered it was cancelled for the day, I realized I needed an April babysitting calendar. Heaven forbid I leave a kid somewhere. So the calendar is ready. And it's stupid. It's ridiculous. While the whole month is a bit mind-boggling, this Thursday in particular looks like a complicated calculus problem, as it will take three different sitters as well as me and Shrek to pull off that day's schedule.

It's crazy that I need a calendar for me, my husband, my mother, my sitters--my village. But I do. And Audrey, Rachel, Joel and all of you other mothers who will randomly step in to care for my children when needed, thank you.

So here we go. I'm ready as I'll ever be. I'm crossing my fingers and jumping in with both feet. Hang on; it's going to be a wild ride.

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