September What?

I know most of the country is working on being contemplative about the fact that tomorrow marks the 8th anniversary of the attack on the World Trade Towers...but I find myself consumed with other contemplations.

As I sit here in my living room, my often laundry covered sofa providing me with a comfortable spot to sit and write, my poor, overworked, sleep deprived husband completely crashed out next to me, a very ambitious cricket outside tries to get noticed, and a developmentally disabled chicken sits brimming with malcontent outside on the step after being kicked out of the house. Again. This is my life.

When the planes struck the towers I was pregnant with my first child, and after days of sorrow, I tuned out all coverage of the event to protect my fetus from my overwhelming sadness over the losses felt by so many people. Today, the day before the 8th anniversary, I sent my baby boy off to kindergarten. His first full day of school, the first day of the new era, and I found myself torn. Full of sadness? Not exactly. Melancholy, nostalgia, regret for every morning not appreciated, every opportunity potentially lost by me having a quilt to finish, or payroll to submit, or dishes to wash...yes, those things I felt. An overwhelming sense of freedom and the excitement of what lies ahead for both of us? Yes, I felt that too. But as much as I struggled to find my identity after Max was born and I stopped teaching, I didn't realize I'd have to find it again now.
PTA vice president? Yes.
Office Manager? Kinda.
Housewife? I don't think so.
What I want to be and what I can be are very different. I'd love to spend all day creating things, sewing, quilting, making and posting new things for sale on Quilting Mama, but it doesn't seem a valid career option. Teaching is not an option, thanks to Governor Terminator. Office manager is a full time job in theory, but seeing as my paycheck is non existent, it doesn't really count. The plan is to seek representation and try and find work as an actor, but that's a tough world too, and talk about not terribly secure...and what does that mean anyway? Who will I be? It's just all so confusing. And the worst part is that I'm going to miss conversations like this:

Max: Mama, do you know what kind of pets I am going to have when I'm a grown up?
Me: No, honey, what?
Max: I TOLD you already! Why don't you remember??
Me: I'm sorry, sweetheart, can you remind me?
Max: I'm going to have 4 cats, a lizard, a snake, and a hamster.
Me: Hmm, ok.
Max: I don't want dogs because I don't want poop in my backyard
Me: Seems reasonable, but you know those other animals poop too, you're going to have to clean their cages at some point.
Max: I'll make sure to be at work when that happens.
Me: Well, then you'll need to clean the cage when you get home.
Max: (whispers something)
Me: What was that?
Max: (loud sigh) Nearaiah will do it.
Me: How do you know she won't have a job and not be at home either?
Max: She's going to work at home.
Me: You can't decide that for her...she may want to become an astronaut like you and go to the moon, then no one will be home to clean the cages.
Max: She can be an astronaut from home.
Me: That may not work.