Twenty Years Late

I did not grow up a country girl.  Granted, the 'city' I lived in had 1,500 people and about 30 square blocks, but I lived IN TOWN. 

I always felt sorry for my friends who lived in the country.  They couldn't just come over to a friend's house at any moment, they couldn't ride bikes around town with us, and most of all, they didn't have cable TV. {Gasp}.  I really thought I couldn't live without it. 

Now I do.

This really doesn't have anything to do with this post, except 'no cable TV' might be the reason I came upon this song.  I cannot blame the fact that we don't have cable on living in the country, because we all know that pretty much anyone anywhere can get 500 channels if they really want to.

We are just cheap.

And we don't love TV that much.

However, there is one moment in my day when TV is a must.  My elliptical machine and I have a love/hate relationship.  I hate getting on it.  I love when it's over.  Yes, I know those are both all about me.  I'm OK with that.

Here is what I have discovered.  No matter what time of day I choose to spend time on the elliptical machine, there is NOTHING on TV.  All 6 channels.  This throws me into great desperation, because one must have distraction while on the elliptical machine.

Enter CMT.  I have no idea when CMT arrived on non-cable TV, but it helps to pass the time. 

Yesterday this song, "Twenty Years Late", came on.  I had never heard it before. 

It stopped me in my tracks.

Well, not literally, I kept sweating in agony, but it definitely caught my attention.

It made me wonder...how will my kids remember me? 

Am I their taxi cab driver, their nurse, and their maid?

A waitress, a cook, and a shoulder to lay their head on to cry on when nothing is going their way?

Am I their judge and their jury and their biggest fan?

....Or is it possible that they will remember a mom who was always busy and rushing and hurrying everyone along?

Who's head was stuck behind a computer and had no time to respond?

Who had so much work to do that there was never time for them?

This thought scares me.  It throws a little perspective on our crazy, busy world.  Here's the thing - sometimes perspective HURTS.  And not just a little. 

I chatted about this with a friend just a little while ago.  She asked me if I was looking at things through a clear lens.

My question back: How do you know when your lens is clear?

Here is what I know -- I know that I do not have to be at home 24/7 to be a good mom.  I do not have to meet them at the door with freshly baked cookies in hand for them to feel loved. 

But I do want to be their counselor, their shoulder to cry on, and their biggest fan.  And I want them to remember me as a mom who had time for them in the good times and the bad.

Is my lens clear?  I'm not sure yet.

But I do know I am trying to bring it into focus.