The Middle of Things

I started work, in a very small way, yesterday after having 4 months off. I know, I know, cry me a river, but I LIKE being at home. If I could figure a way to stay home and make money that didn't involve telemarketing or getting my kitchen dirty, I'd do it. I just love having all my stuff around me, having a little routine and not thinking about what I'm wearing. Luckily the latter part of that also goes along somewhat with what my actual job requires. The most "dressed up" I get at work is wearing a pair of fun chef pants and finding a funny t-shirt (this year's favorite: Mr. Potato Head dressed up as a hippie with "Baked Potato" under it).


So anyway, I started work yesterday by unpacking my kitchen. The sorority I work for moved into a house that used to belong to a fraternity that got kicked out of Lehigh last year. The house is beautiful. It's not one of the classic old frats with the columns, etc. It was probably built in the 60's or early 70's. But it's open and airy and the girls chose beautiful colors (I even got my requested yellow kitchen!). And anyone who saw it when it was a frat will appreciate just how beautiful it is now. To say the place was shabby and REEKED would be kind. Yuck. I love boys but massive drunken parties and preserving beautiful architecture don't mix.


So it's beautiful, the kitchen is incredibly well-appointed (a place for everything and everything in its place--YAY!), and the girls, especially the Juniors, are happy to see me. Everything is good. A new year is exciting and full of possibilities. Great!


I wish I could be really happy about it.


See, I have this problem of hating the beginning of things (ANXIETY) and the end of things (sadness). I never like to be the first one to arrive at a party and I hate when my last guest leaves from a party of my own. I love the middle of things.


I try not to show this to my children because I don't want them to be afraid of new experiences or regret that something has ended. I'd like to be the kind of mom who helps her kids to enjoy the moments in life, to revel in the excitement and to feel the sadness and not fear it. So I'm trying not to think about how great it'll be when I establish a routine, when I know all the sophmores' names, and when it's finally December, halfway through the year. Because if I keep thinking like that, it'll suddenly be May, the end, and I will have missed all the fun in between.