I told you that I love being a mother. And I told you that there are days that I don’t.
I do sometimes fantasize what it would be like to just travel, write, have some adventures (if I were truly that brave) and somehow make money to support myself. To be my age, with life experience, wisdom gained, and little responsibility. Not that I want to be IRRESPONSIBLE. Not at all.
NOT that I don’t love my sweet husband or children or family life, even with the hot minivan and all. Not that I don’t have a million zillion things in this life to be grateful for. Not that I want someone else or different children. I am NOT saying that.
I just sometimes want to feel that carefree feeling again. To not worry or feel the mom-guilt or wife-guilt about what I do or don’t do in my roles. To not always think about how I need to change this or that, and finish those scrapbooks (where are they?) and try harder, and be more patient, and give more of myself, and meal plan and schedule plan, and life plan. (I’m a planner by nature but sometimes I want to chuck my old-fashioned paper schedule into the Pacific Ocean. But then panic would set in and it would get ugly.)
Do you ever feel this way? EVER? Do you ever fantasize about those days before kids when you had 54 hours in a day and all you cared about was seeing your spouse at the end of a workday? What did Chris and I do with all our time? We ran together, we trained together for our first marathon, we travelled,we slept on Manhattan Beach on Sunday afternoons because we just FELT LIKE IT. Ahhhhh…..