It’s a weird place. I’ve got kids, but I’ll be honest, I’m not sure I’m sure excited about all the ins and outs of them right now. OF COURSE I love my children and am always grateful for them, but let’s be honest, I could happily table the Pull-ups forever and die a happy woman. A very happy woman.
I miss it, you see. I miss getting up in the morning and having The Freedom to pull on a fresh pair of panties without someone screaming that they need more chocolate milk or someone else claiming incapability to manuever the zipper pull on their jacket.
I tell myself someday.
And then I fill the milk cups, pull the zippers, and pretend that my un-changed underwear really isn’t that gross. GROSS, I know.
But I can’t do a darn thing about it. We never were a “symphony” couple. Nor were we a rockin’ Beyonce concert couple, but regardless, I just want to be able to go to these things. It’s the emcumberment that’s getting to me.
It all got rather nasty around the 2 yr. anniversary of my mom’s death, when I started heavily mourning and fantasizing about about what life might have been like if we’d have a grandmother to throw in the mix of raising young kids. We do not.
So let’s tell the true story–the laundry pile scares me. It is now larger and fantastically heavier than my 70+ lb. lab. He might get buried by it. On the days that he annoys me with his incessant whimpering for no explicable reason, I’m not sure this is a problem.
The thing is, my husband works and he’s important at his job. As fate would have it, I’ve gone and got myself my own job. We still have kids. They still need to eat, and as it turns out, laundry does not do itself. Darn it.
Raised on frozen dinners and take out, I always wanted something more for my kids. I wanted the Pinterest-perfect life of theme-flavored pancakes and DIY fantabulous b-day parties.
But then life happened.
I started thinking my parents weren’t that incompetent. That maybe they had done the best they could. And that maybe I can’t really do any better.
We all want glorious lives for our children, but if we feed them, clothe them and let them know that we love them, have we really done that badly??
My husband is a man of hobbies and frankly, it is exhausting. But you see, I want to do fancy things like brush my teeth and finish BJ Novak’s latest novel. In the sparse non-children-actively demanding-something moments, it gets dicey. Because Dr. J and I each have our own goals in this world. Despite the fact that we have gotten married and procreated, we remain individuals who have unique interests in this world. Granted, my husband has more interests than most, but we are human and we both have stuff.
Regardless of the stuff, we’ve still got kids.
And somebody’s got to do something about the laundry. Soon.
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