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If I were an Onion
October 3, 2009
I have just squeezed back into my working mother shoes. I confess, they’re feeling pretty snug right now with my having enlisted to continue breastfeeding.

These days, my exhaustion tapers off during my nightly ritual of doing dishes. I find it soothing to soak my palms in warm sudsy water (bizarre tiny pleasures are big right now). It’s when I mentally hunt for all of the time snatchers I should cut from my life.
.
Then it hits me. I am an onion.
.
I’ll stop cleaning dirty socks. peel off one thin skin.
I’ll cancel girlfriend phone dates. peel off one thin skin.
I’ll evade clutter and crumby floors. peel off one thin skin.
I’ll swap a.m. blow-dries for up do’s and pony tails. peel off one thin skin.
I’ll turn down after school play dates. peel off one thin skin.
I’ll forgo naps to chase down scary bills. peel off one thin skin.
I’ll turn in my apron and welcome frozen foods. peel off one thin skin.
I’ll keep peeling and peeling my onion away
Until I can look in the mirror and say:
“I’m a nursing mom who works full-time.”
(big sigh)
This won’t last forever.
My onion makes me cry!
.
We don’t give ourselves enough credit for the complex women we truly are by keeping the family motor humming given our hectic schedule. In your weakest, body drained moment, pick one thing you could elminate from your day to unload some stress.
Forget perfect. Start peeling your onion.
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