Wishful thinking

Working is stressful. Being a mom is stressful. Being a working mom is double-stressful. You know what’s not stressful? Being a kid.

Sometimes--a lot of times--as I’m sitting on the couch, watching my newly-turned 2.5 year old make a picnic on the floor out of whatever plastic food she brought up from her playroom downstairs, I can’t help but think, wouldn’t it be nice to live life as our children for just one day?

She wakes up in a cozy bed at her leisure--not to an alarm clock--but to her best friends laying next to her: Mickey, Lambie, Baby, and Bear. Someone (me, Mom) dresses her for the day; she does not lift so much as a finger to assist in the process.

Her next few hours are spent playing with her other best friends at daycare, on the playground, and at song time, followed by snack time and nap time. OMG--nap time. What I would do to be forced to close my eyes once a day, every day, and praised when I slept for more than an hour. I would really excel at nap time.

After “school” she comes home and plays outside, endlessly giggling at the airplanes above our heads, the dogs that walk past our house, and the sound the grass makes under our toes.

Her nights are spent being cooked for, bathed, and cuddled in the arms of those who love her most. We take pictures of her when she eats so much that the spaghetti sauce ends up all over her face. And calories--she doesn’t even know those exist.

She has no to-do lists or bills. She doesn’t know sadness, at least not real sadness. And she certainly doesn’t know stress.

Ahhh, no stress, no responsibility, pure happiness--the joys of childhood.