{Can I get an AMEN?!?!}

I received a great article from my mother in law.

It was cut out of The Arizona Republic newspaper.

She wrote at the top of the page,

"Jolie~ I read this sister every week and somehow she reminds me of you!"

I would have to say that my mother in law knows me pretty well! :)

Take some time to read this entertaining article by Karina Bland and her "SO-CALLED MIDLIFE" story.

Some of you may not have much to relate to Karina's life.....

others may be relating all too well....

as I do.

World, here I come - after I take the kid to drama class



A long, long time ago — before I graduated from college, got a mortgage and became a mom — I dreamed of backpacking across the globe, eventually winding up in some whitewashed village on a fabulous Greek island, where I would wear crinkly cotton dresses, waitress at a seaside cafe and flirt with the handsome young local fishermen.

But my life followed a much more practical path, with four years of college right after high school and a job right out of college, a car payment and then another job and another degree, a house in downtown Tempe, a little boy, piano lessons and a carpool.

I love my life, but there are days when I fantasize about what it would be like if I just kept driving west after I dropped off the kids at school. In no time, I could be in San Diego staring out at the ocean with my toes in the sand. No one would pay attention to the frenzied-looking middle-age woman with bags under her eyes and a ponytail because she hardly ever has time to do anything with her hair in the morning. It would be hours before anyone would know I was missing.

With so many people pulling me in so many directions, I sometimes feel like I'm being pulled to pieces. There's just so much to do, between work and taking care of my family and a house, on top of the things I want to do, like tap dancing and book group, and the things I've promised others I'd do — write grants, paint scenery, sell tickets.

Sometimes I get this overwhelming urge to run away.

I ran away from home once before. I was 7. I took a bologna sandwich, a pair of pajamas and my doll Velvet, and holed up between a banana tree and rabbit cage in the backyard. I was gone for about 45 minutes. Nobody noticed.

I can't remember why I ran away, but clearly, I just needed a little time to myself. I still do, but finding time alone it is a lot more difficult now than it was when I skipped out on my second-grade homework and high-tailed it out the back door.

Most days, the only alone time I get is if I lock myself in the bathroom. (It's the only room in the house with a lock on the door.) But even then there's no guarantee that there won't be something on the other side of the door that requires my attention.

"No, you can't watch TV until you finish your homework!" I shout through the door. "No, I don't want anything from the Schwan's man." And, "Tell them I'll call back later. I'm busy!"

Sitting on the side of the bathtub, I can see the dog pushing his nose into the crack under the door. I run water in the sink and close my eyes, and pretend I'm somewhere else. I slow my breathing and roll my neck.

But I have to come out sometime. And then we're still out of milk, and my boy needs me to sign his trumpet-practice log, the dog has been in the trash, and no one has started dinner yet. (That's because no one was in the bathroom for 20 minutes.)

You know how, if you're on a plane when the oxygen mask drops from the overhead compartment and you're traveling with kids, you are supposed to put your mask on first and then help them? It's like that in life, too; you're no good to anyone else if you don't take care of yourself.

Some days I have inexhaustible energy. Other days, well, I don't know where it comes from because I certainly didn't get enough sleep and my buzz from three Diet Cokes has worn off. On the outside, all seems normal. On the inside, I'm screaming for a break. But how in the world are we supposed to make it happen?

I used to get a good 20 minutes alone twice a day in my car during my commute, but now I share the ride with four kids on their way to school. Instead of sipping Starbucks and listening to NPR, I'm playing Slug Bug and fielding complaints about homework.

Sometimes the only way to get a little time alone is to be sneaky about it. On Thursdays, for example, my son goes to drama at 5:30 p.m. for a glorious hour and a half. I tell the teacher, "I can't help out today. I still have work to finish," looking apologetic, and dodge the other moms on their way to coffee with a "Sorry, can't join you. I must get to the grocery store."

Really, I go home to my blissfully empty house, strip out of my work clothes, parade into the kitchen in my underwear for a Diet Coke and plop on the couch with the new Ikea catalog. It's how I imagine heaven: the people I love close by but spans of quiet solitude.

Just that hour or so gives me a chance to recharge. Then I can jump back into the fray that is my life with renewed vigor.

I do sometimes still dream about running away from home. But now, it demands a to-do list: Could I get the time off work? I'd have to get someone to take care of my kid, stop the newspaper, get someone in to watch the dog and mow the yard, and make arrangements for the carpool. The preparations themselves would be exhausting.

So instead, tonight I pour myself a glass of wine and watch the season premiere of "Glee." It will have to do for now.
But the next time I do go, I'm taking a suitcase, going farther than 200 feet into the backyard and staying longer than an hour.

If you need me, check the beach in Greece first.



Reach the reporter at karina.bland@ arizonarepublic.com.