Twenty five years out, a mom considers her school’s annual request: “Please let us know what you’ve been up to — any exciting news or announcements for the next edition of the alumni magazine.

 

By Eileen O’Connor

 

Twenty five years out, a mom considers her school’s annual request: “Please let us know what you’ve been up to — any exciting news or announcements for the next edition of the alumni magazine.”

 

I am working on my novel. I swear.

 

I am writing a screenplay.

 

I have returned to poetry.

 

I am considering law school.

 

I am currently working on an exciting project for a business you’ve never heard of, but it’s up-and-coming. Watch out!

 

I love my pediatrician. Maybe I should apply to med school.

 

I love my vet, too, but get a little nauseated thinking about the things you’d have to do as a vet.

 

I liked the thought of saying we have a garden, we grow our own vegetables. And then I asked myself why?

 

I realized I am not much of a ‘class mom’ and should have remembered I am still trying to figure out how to be a sane and loving mother to my own kids. No need to raise the bar.

 

I successfully contested a few speeding tickets, but failed to register for the driver safety class to knock off the remaining points on my license.

 

I have driven more miles than I ever thought possible. On empty.

 

I paid a lot of money in overdue library fines. I am still holding out hope that “The Very Hungry Caterpillar” will be found.

 

I went through a baking phase, and, more briefly, a cooking phase.

 

I tried one of those weeklong juice cleanses but nearly passed out by noon on the first day.  

 

I put a lot of time into re-decorating the kids’ rooms and realized they don’t care and still prefer our bed.

 

I am committing myself to creating a sock that has no seams, a line of clothes that has no tags, and winter clothes disguised as beach wear.

 

I am estimating how many times and how loudly one little person can say “MOM” in a day. Multiply that by four and God I was never good at math, but I know it’s a lot and I know that sometimes I want to change my name and ask them who is this MOM and why do you keep calling her?

 

I am wondering will they ever get tired of throwing, kicking, bouncing, and fighting over that ball?  And why they feel the need to be within two feet of me while doing so??

 

I am thinking I missed my calling as a referee, an umpire, a drill sergeant, a prison guard, a border patrol agent, and a UN peacekeeper. 

 

I am trying to be okay, for now, with just being a mom. 

 

Actually, I am trying to be a better mom. I am wondering does that make me less of a person.  I sometimes think it does.

 

I am thinking of writing about that.                 

 

The author is the mother of three boys and one girl. She went to college and grad school, and even had a job – but­­ now she’s mostly just a mom.