Ever get in a funk?
Of course you do, you’re human. We all do. You know what else will put you in a funk? Finding A STRAY CHIN HAIR ON YOUR FACE! What the what?! Funk level = maximized.
I found myself that way today… wandering around like a “mombie” who’s heart was heavy with responsibility, obligation, and commitments…. wallowing in my chin hair pity. If I’m being completely honest, I wanted to grab my husbands hand, drag him to the car, and run away with him on a wild date weekend where we’d consume ridiculous amounts of amazing food and drink far too much wine. I wanted to wake up, tangled in sheets, whenever the heck I wanted. I wanted to sit in silence and just stare at my husband… admiring his beautiful mouth and lush beard. Yes, I said lush. Not to be confused with my chin hair beard, of course.
Hey Shaye! You still in there? You still here with me? Have you been completely lost in Mom-land? It’s a dangerous place!
For us “mombies”, it’s easy to feel like we’re losing ourselves a bit – many of us sacrifice in huge ways to be here with our littles. And to add a little salt in the wound of the day, while cleaning out the boy’s bedroom closet, Stuart brought out a picture of us taken a decade ago. Y’all – my skin – it glowed! Everything was perkier. Fresher. Younger. Less “mature”, shall we say. Of course, that was ten years, two businesses, a handful of cross country moves, and four babies ago. Hey man. A girl is only so resilient. Want to see it? Sigh.
It’s not that I wanted to go back to being her. I just have forgotten who she is. Part of this is due to the wonderful conversion I experienced in my early twenties – the other part is just due to time… to circumstance. She had nothing to worry about but designing beautiful floral arrangements and not missing Thirsty Thursdays at the nearest pub. She went on road trips and backpacked through Europe and played guitar and stayed out too late. She only had to think about herself.
Would I ever hope to be her again? Not in a million years.
But as I claw my way up from the quicksand that is the “little years”, being a small business owner, launching a new cookbook, building a farm, and running a successful oil business, I can’t help but envy her a wee bit. What she lacked in maturity and selflessness, she made up for in zeal and passion – for her future, for her opinions, for her man.
I’m so dang tired of talking: “Please take the frog out of the house.”, “You need to put your underwear back on.”, “Do you need to be wiped?”, “Sure, let me fill that sippy again for the 800th time today.”… that it’s almost impossible to have an opinion about anything.
“Who are you voting for for President?” I don’t care who’s President as long as they don’t make me wipe them or fill their sippy cup! Just leave me alone! I don’t even know what year it is or country we live in!
After spending some time examining the photograph and coveting young Shaye’s ora, I popped the top on an IPA and sought Stuart out to share my woes. I couldn’t get more than a few words in before Joodj woke up from her nap, needing to be nursed, and yet another of our hoodrats needed to be redirected and attended to.
Hi Stuart! Bye Stuart. Good talk.
Oh how I miss getting to talk to my husband. I miss sneaking off for date nights and dreaming with him. On our honeymoon, we spent one of the days walking the streets of Victoria, B.C. where we ducked in and out of small, artisan stores admiring their nicknacks before scampering off to the local pub for a pint of Guinness and newspaper roll of Fish’n Chips. We existed in each others presence without constant interruption. And it was beautiful.
But here me now – I love our interruptions. They’re so dang cute I could just explode – much like my heart does multiple times a day in those little moments of redemption that come as a parent. I love my children more than the very air that keeps my alive.
Maybe it’s that I’m just now getting old enough to really remember and reflect on the past.
Or maybe it’s just that I’ve got four kids under five and am feeling a bit lost in the demands.
Or perhaps it’s the fact that StuDiddy and I haven’t been on a date in waaaaay to long. But whatever it is, it’s got me nostalgic and a bit melancholy for the times gone by. It also makes me long for the blessed years ahead that I so look forward to spending with this man.
When meeting with our financial advisor this morning, we began to dream of the future. “A small little apartment in Florence for us to jet off to a few times a year, where we can spend our days eating pasta and drinking wine whilst enjoying deep conversation, exploring the Mediterranean coast, and enjoy weekend trips into Switzerland would be wonderful, thanks.” I shan’t see anything wrong with such a request.
Our littles are with us for but a fleeting season. I shall savor them and drink them up completely, all the while gently looking forward to a time when older (and wiser) Shaye can once again devote the time, energy, and passion into loving an older (and wiser) Stuart in the way he most certainly deserves and the way I most certainly desire. Young Shaye may have been perky and energetic, but I must remind myself that Older Shaye is emotionally richer and cognitively deeper than that ‘ol youngin’ could have even imagined.
Getting older is a crazy beautiful process – even if it does come with wrinkles and a chin hair.
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