The other side of things

Recently I've had a fit of wistfulness.

When I talk with my friends whose children started kindergarten this year, who drop off their children in the morning in idyllic settings, with built-in child exercise and entertainment --  and then spend the day pursuing their own interests -- I feel a little jealous.

And when I see little boys at the park wearing superhero costumes and making swords from sticks, with their little buzz-cuts and beat-up boy sneakers -- I feel a little swoon of envy for their moms.

I'm not going to stop homeschooling Chebbles anytime soon, and I'm not going to do some Hail Mary gender-selected IVF in order to conceive a boy -- but I feel I'd be remiss if I didn't indulge myself in a few sighs.

I am incredibly grateful for what I have. I have Hub-D slaying the dragons for us so I can stay home. I have a child who responds beautifully to the curricula I've chosen. In fact, I have three healthy, hilariously bright children who safely issued from my loins -- by hook or by crook -- and I myself am healthy and happy going into the new year.

But it's human nature to wonder what's over the next hill, to wonder what other people are doing, and to fantasize that somehow, if I could just have what they have, things would be even more OK than they are now.

What's on the other side? Is the grass in fact greener for mothers who can reignite their personal ambitions during the school day? And do people with both boy and girl children have a more diversified life, perhaps with not so many feelings being hurt all of the time?

I like to fantasize that these things are true. Concurrently, I believe the direction we've taken is the very best one for us.

(Photo by Gigi)