Friday night. The end to another busy week. The beginning of a busy weekend. <Sigh> Fridays. I can't help but think another week is over and what did I accomplish? Both at my day job and home, the to-do list seems endless. At work, I think about what I need to do at home. At home, I constantly think of things I need to do at work. I am the human rope stretched between my (at-times) conflicting duties.
My day job pays the bills, but it's not my whole life. I have a wonderful husband and two precious, little boys plus friends and hobbies. I have a full life. I am (mostly) living the dream. When I was a little girl, I wanted to become many different things when I grew up. The top recurring occupations - writer and mother. So, I can feel deeply accomplished that I have become both. The boys occupy much of my "spare" time and I don't get to write as much as I'd like. But I wouldn't change it for the world. Even with the hardships we've had over the last 6 years, life is good.
Nearly 6 years ago, when my oldest son was about 5 weeks old, my husband became sick. We had no idea what was wrong with him. It took over a month and a week long hospitalization to determine he had multiple sclerosis (MS). Since his diagnosis, we've made a lot of changes in our lives. Some voluntary, others not. We lost friends. We had to change the way we spent money. We changed our diet. Again and again. I went back to work. My husband has not been able to work since he took ill. Although that was initially very hard for him - he was a complete workaholic - when I went back to work, his role became the stay-at-home dad instead of just the disabled person. I began to write again. I've tried to write fictional stories about the effect disability has on relationships. It hits too close to home. I am fortunate that my husband and I have been together a long time and have a very solid relationship.
I met him when I was 15 years old. We started dating when I was 16. We got married a week before I turned 23. He knows me better than I know myself. How lucky am I? I found my one true love at 16. How unlucky are we? At 30 years old, he was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease with no cure. Just when all the pieces of our lives had come together - good jobs, beautiful house, new baby boy - just add MS.
Life is hard, but life is hard, in some way, for everyone. Life is also good. When I look at my sweet boys playing well together, eating their meals, tidying their toys, dancing to whatever CD is their favourite, doing pretty much anything, I am filled with an indescribable joy. When my kids give me a hug, I swear it's the best thing ever! I can't imagine life without them. Even the YEARS they didn't sleep through the night... or in their own beds.
I guess Fridays put me in a contemplative mood. How do I measure the success of my week? By what I accomplished? The items I scratched off my to-do list? The precious moments spent with my family that I will cherish forever? No contest.
Although there is something very satisfying about completing a task. I finished the line edits for my soon-to-be published novella on Wednesday and e-mailed them to the editor. It was a great relief to finish that particular task, but I have a feeling it won't be the final edit. There are some areas I changed in order to address the editor's questions and comments and I have no idea how these changes will be received. I never realized how much work went into the editing process. I have a new appreciation for all the writers out there. By the time we're through, I'll have spent as many hours editing as I did writing the damn thing - slight exaggeration, of course.
These are my musings for this week. At least this weekend is four days long for me... Happy Canada Day! Prelude to the summer... park, beach, and enough warm days to help us forget the long, COLD winter. And, if I'm lucky, a little time to write.