I need the work-hours to go faster and the off-hours to go slower. I’m in the final week as a full-time Mom. I knew this time would come. Time always does. It didn’t take much time to get here, but it took a long time. We kept up with our routine. I seized every day.
This will be the last weekend we wake together in my bed and giggle and joke and imagine giant-sized pancakes covered with strawberries and ice cream and syrup and chocolate syrup, and ketchup (for Is). This will be the last weekend we wake together in my bed and play peek-a-boo or catch-the-light. This will be the last weekend we wake together in my bed and make silly faces in the mirror or jump in bed.
This will be the last full week we do laundry together, go grocery shopping together, run to the park together, eat on the living room floor together, pick strawberries together, craft together, go to a baseball game together, dance together, cuddle together, laugh together, and read together.
It won’t actually be The Last Weekend, just the last weekend with the kids as a majority presence in my home. I’m only eligible for 49% of their time after this week. But they’ll still get 100% of mine. Minus the golf lessons, book group meetings, certification training…
I’ve discovered my secret ingredient to survive The Last Month: routine and hope. The routine keeps us going and hope makes it worth it.