Anne Taintor is my hands-down favourite satirist of motherhood and the life of a woman. (Seriously, click that link and look at her gallery of images. Time well spent.)
Sadly, she has not yet captured my dream with her witty one-liners: clones for the whole family.
It’s that time of year when folks are asking, “What would you/the kids/your husband like for Christmas?”
I’m sorely lacking in imagination with my answers because, frankly, I want for nothing but time.
How can you make my dreams come true? Clone me. Better yet, clone me, my husband and my three kids multiple times so that one husband can drive one kid to hockey while the same kid stays home and gets his homework done and the same husband drives a different kid to hockey and I stay home and supervise homework and attend both hockey games and the third kid’s basketball game and I cook a huge brunch and we all sleep in and enjoy a pajama day.
We have a lot on our plates, but you know what? We don’t want to give any of it up. The kids can’t wait to get out the door to hockey, whether it’s morning or night, and while the enthusiasm might be slightly more muted for the academic extracurriculars, they like those, too. They aren’t complaining about being overscheduled.
Overscheduled is what we appear to be when you look at the bulging calendar, but the word implies an unwelcome burden and zombie kids but none of what we choose to stuff the calendar with is unwelcome and the kids are thriving. Our lives are bountiful and filled with welcome plenty. I struggle so with acknowledging all that welcome plenty at the same time as feeling frazzled from so much running around. I am a homebody, and I crave my quiet nights, but I do not want to say no. I do not want to trim or cut or axe or delete. I want us all home and sitting around the dinner table together and I want us all tucked into our beds on time and I want time for my kids to really get pleasurably absorbed in a project and I want them to play epic games of Minecraft/tag/cards/whatever without watching the clock and I want us all at the rink, four cheering on the fifth, and I want to experience that fabled feeling of being in the moment when the moments only seem to come hurtling at me at 100 mph.
So, what is my dream for Christmas? The impossible dream: I dream of clones.