On a Friday...

Oh hey, there. Are people still doing this? Reading the musings of random people on the internet? Or are we all visual these days? Do posts require stirring photos to lure the reader in? I don’t know. I’ve been buried under an almost constant pile of diapers and bottles and legos for the past 100 years so you’ll have to excuse my ignorance. It’s like entering the dating pool again after years in a relationship. I’m not sure when it’s appropriate to put out.

Let’s just assume you’re here because we knew each other once upon a time, when we both understood the rules, and after a long while I’m like “Hey, there! Remember me? Remember us? We had some laughs once upon a time…” and you’re feeling polite, or just bored. I mean, it’s the Friday before a holiday week. I could use a glass of wine right about now...perhaps when I’m done here.

Honestly, I only have the excuse of parenting to explain such a long absence. And I know other people manage to raise more than two children and work and create and have full lives. But I’m not, under the very best of circumstances, what you would call and overly productive member of society. My care label reads, “Needs excessive quiet, avoid over-exposure to people, requires a lot of sleep. Put out in the sun occasionally, ocean views preferred.” Which is to say, motherhood was an assault on all of my senses and brought anything beyond keeping my two children alive to a grinding halt. (I consider it win if we’ve made it to dinner without my having to yell “STOP TRYING TO SMOTHER YOUR BROTHER!” more than once.) You guys, parenting is HARD. I think if you want to do it well and be present for your children, it requires a kind of self-sacrifice that I wasn’t entirely prepared for.

Which is not to say that I haven’t loved every moment of it. But it demands a lot of me. And I say that as a fairly laid back person who gave birth to two sons that have Marc’s energy. Which is to say, ceaseless. Everyone points at my husband and says “YOU HAD ALL OF THE INFORMATION AND STILL DID THIS TO YOURSELF?” I mean, I know. I KNOW. But he’s super hot and a really great kisser, so draw your own conclusions.

The funny truth is that even when it’s hard, it’s great. Even if you’re in that stage of rearing your children where THAT is what defines you, there is something wonderful about being surrounded by all of that love, knowing that you are the center of something, even if it’s just their tiny universe. That you get to experience life all over again, even if through the thick veil of fatigue and fear that covers everything. It’s undeniably the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life, but I think I’ll look back on these years that feel as though they have stripped me of so much and see that I gained more from it than I can see right now.

We have a lot of friends who don’t have children and I actually think that would have been an equally wonderful choice. I don’t think my version of life is more fulfilled, I just think it’s different. I can see my life both ways: the other me would travel more and still be in irresponsible footwear, unaware that there existed another circle of hell called Any Park Where My Children Always Want to Go. I would be well rested and probably brush my teeth before noon. I wouldn’t have unidentifiable stains on my clothing (FOOD, guys…food), and would likely understand what it feels like to spend an entire night in my own bed. And sometimes I yearn for that.

But this is my life. I ask two people, daily, whether or not they need to poo. I break up constant fights, step on wood blocks with my bare feet in the middle of the night and stifle a string of expletives as I stumble to the bathroom. I both fear and marvel at who they may or may not be as they grow. I kiss their heads countless times a day. I love and curse at how they run everywhere. My heart swells when I hear them giggle with each other. I laugh constantly. I cry frequently. I’m both lonely and never alone. I love my husband with a greater intensity. He’s not the man I married and I’m certainly not the same woman yet I think we still find ways to fall in love with each other, even with two small people between us.

And creatively? I’ve never had more to say and less energy to say it. And so I think I’ll carve this little space out for myself again. I thought about starting a new blog, but this corner of the internet has stood as sort of a memorial to an old life and I think, why not just continue? Because though the time before is so different than the life I live now, it’s still mine. All, messy, confusing, beautiful 40 years of it. They all belong to me. 

So we’ll see.