This week has been trying. Correction: this winter has been
trying. Correction: this winter
has made me really think hard about my state of mind…as in, I might be losing
it. A few weeks ago I was having a
conversation with a friend about our children. She said, “You know what a good
idea kids seemed like before we had them? I mean, everyone was getting married
and having kids and it just seemed like such a good plan, I just road that wave
until it crashed.” What a great metaphor. I rode the wave, too. And please
don’t get me wrong – and please don’t start with the, “one day you’ll miss the
crazy” talk. I know. I get it. I adore my children. They are smart, funny, and without
a doubt the best thing that I’ve ever done. They’re also the hardest thing I
have ever done, and I'm not going to lie, sometimes I long for the carefree life I had before they
came along.
I can’t have a conversation anymore that doesn’t get
interrupted. I can’t write anymore without someone asking me for something they
could probably get for themselves. I can’t sit down for 30 minutes to read
without falling asleep because I’m so tired from dealing with other people’s
shit all day long. I hear of people planning trips and traveling without their
children and I want to punch them in the throat. I need a vacation. Like, last
year.
I suppose I wasn’t ever really that carefree, I just had
different concerns. This morning, Steve looked at a photo of us on the fridge
circa 2005, and said, “God, you look like a baby in this.” Yep. That’s exactly
what every almost-40 year old woman wants her husband to say. You know why I look like
an old fucking lady? Because that photo was taken pre-children, and raising two
kids has aged me more than all the cigarettes I smoked and all the bad decisions I made in the 1990s combined. I have
worried myself and stressed myself and aged myself beyond my years and
sometimes I just get really, really sad and very selfish about that.
Just last night he asked me if he could get me anything. The
kids had gone to bed, but both had called out at least 3 times each for
different reasons: I need a drink. My throat hurts. My socks fell off inside
the covers. I need a nightlight. I looked at him and I said, “yes. I need a
trip to 2004.” “For what?” he said. “For NOT THIS.” I responded, flailing my
arms around me like a madwoman. I sound like a terrible asshole. Judge away. It’s
just that sometimes all I want in this world is to be alone. Or just to be with
Steve without all the noise. Sometimes I forget why I liked him so much in the
first place, because it’s never quiet enough for me to remember. I’d like some
time without having to think about when to return for the babysitter, or how
much we have to pay to have someone else entertain our kids so we can sit at
dinner and talk about them.
And there’s the rub. Even when we’re alone, we talk about
them. It turns out, our world will always revolve around someone else’s needs. As it has for
the last 9 years and will continue to until we die…which is a super uplifting
thought. Again, our kids are amazing little people. I also understand this is like having first world problems. I know there are people who would love to have children of their own and can't. People who have WAY worse complaints than children who are needy. But this is my blog and my place to vent, so there. I guess I just wish that someone would have said to us, “Go!
Travel and enjoy your time before the kids come. Don’t jump on the wave until
you’re certain you’re ready (is anyone ever really ready?) Talk to each other. Be
quiet. Just be.” That, or, at
least we would have been smart enough to listen when when we were given that advice.
