The rut

I think I'm depressed.

There is a big, wide world out there. Politics is happening. Art is happening. Music is happening. But in my world, only winter and children are happening. Children who color permanent marker on my coffee table, children who harass their younger siblings, children who whine and grouse incessantly, children who make messes are happening.

I'm in a rut.

My husband plugs away at law school, studying, writing, researching ad infinitum. He's engaged, driven, stressed out, and dare I say it, happy. I look around at the endless dirty snowbanks, the messy apartment, the uprooted children and wonder why I'm here.

Forecasts of "wintry mix" have a way of making me feel so homesick. I want to be back in my old house, walking with my friends in the hot evenings, leaving my kids with my parents for a few hours of sanity. But it's not an option. I have to look at the big picture, look to the not-so-distant future when our hard work and sacrifices will pay off.

But the snow and ice are blinding. I can't see into that future right now.

I have found myself taking more and more frequent mental vacations to Hawaii. I've never been there, but in my mind I'm in a small bungalow on the beach with a lush forest behind me, and brilliant blue waves crashing on the shores before me. I am drenched in warm sun, and of course, I'm twenty pounds lighter.

A girl can dream.

And right now, dreams are all I've got to take me away from the harshness of winter and the endless challenges of motherhood. There is a light at the end of this malaise-ridden tunnel. Spring is supposedly weeks away. At least, my mind tells me it is; although my heart is doubtful. And my mother is coming soon, followed closely by my mother-in-law. Their visits always bring much needed warmth, camaraderie, and reprieve.

My husband has been a tremendous source of strength, taking care of the kids on Saturday, while I burrow under my blankets hiding from responsibility for a short while. He's there to "talk me away from the edge", when the screeching and whining have hit a crescendo. But he's only human, and a very busy human at that. He can't make the sun shine brighter or hotter, and he can't make the kids stop being kids.

I haven't fenced in six weeks. I haven't jogged or walked briskly in months. I bake and eat and groan each time I step on the scale. I spend way too much time plugged into the internet. I spend way too much time drifting off to my imaginary Hawaiian island bungalow.

I'm in a rut.

Perhaps I could use a full-blown Hollywood mid-life crisis: the impractical sports car, the impossible cross-country journey with fellow middle-aged companion in tow, the trip to Jamaica, the younger man - wait, I already married him.

That's the problem with life - it doesn't follow the script. I wasn't supposed to be facing down forty, working part-time as a P.E. teacher, living in an apartment in Chicago, raising three children, married to a student, wearing long skirts and baking my own challah. None of that was in the plans.

Thank God I'm horrible at planning things.

I'd rather be in this rut, surrounded by a wonderful, sweet, hard-working husband, and three brilliant, funny, affectionate, and precocious children. Thank God I have two parents I adore and a mother-in-law I'm crazy about. I have a wonderful family I love, and they love me back. I couldn't have planned it better myself.

I don't need a Hollywood script for my life, just some patience. Spring is right around the corner: long walks outdoors with friends, adventures to great museums and gardens with my children, fresh air and no snow. Visits from family, dates with my husband - I just have to hold on a little longer.

In due time, even this wintry mix will pass.

In due time, I may make it to the real Hawaii.