There are two things about myself that I know for sure: I’m a creative spirit and I’m an old soul. I often don’t know how I feel or what I think until I write it out. Putting words down on a page has always helped me capture and organize my racecar thoughts. If doing this publicly also poses some entertainment for you, so be it. At least on the internet I can’t hear the silence of nobody laughing at my jokes. 😉 Having two insanely active kids rules most of my time. My kids are my joy and my kids are my life, but I know these days of superheroes and petty tantrums will expire (I’ve been told by liars that these days flee quickly) and I will be left to my own thoughts and my own time again. My goal is to maintain a functional brain through this child tornado and still be available to conversate at an adult level once I can crawl back out of my underground safe house. I’d like to think there’s a sea of mom’s out there that share my same goals. Avoid loss of sanity. Maintain ability to speak.
It’s amazing how goals change, isn’t it? My goals in my early 20’s were simple; I dreamed them up and I executed them. I worked a corporate job at Microsoft and moved on to a more creative job doing hair extensions out of a lavish building in a ritzy area. I just used the word “ritzy.” Is my age showing? Anyway, something about being married to a dazzling source of encouragement pushed me to leap quickly and confidently. I also enjoyed my time as an aerospace engineer. That’s not true. But, doing part-time hair and having a blonde butterball toddler was a great balance. It didn’t live long, though. Enter baby #2.
I never understood how someone’s screaming child could be their greatest joy until I had some of my own. My babies are a joyful mess. The same dirty-with-chocolate-because-they-broke-into-mommy-and-daddy’s-chocolate-stash-AGAIN faces that I want to darn near ship across the Pacific are the faces that light me up. They drain me and they charge me. There are days I could snap them in half, and yet, I’d never let anyone harm a hair on their sweet bouncy heads. Am I making sense? And why do I feel like I’m yelling?
As my 30’s welcomed me in, they immediately taught me that dumb things (like dressing up to go to the grocery store, having copious amounts of Facebook friends, fitting in and wrinkles) don’t actually matter. There are things that aren’t worth the energy I just spent typing out this sentence. I’ve always felt like a bit of an old soul and the collision of that with my current decade has been a little blissful. My ever-changing mind (and by changing, I really mean shrinking) feels like it has commonsensically grown into those metaphorical shoes that were always a little too big on me.
Next time I find myself losing my train of thought mid-conversation because I’m watching my children throw dirt in the faces of strangers, I will reread this to remind myself there is joy lost in there somewhere. And maybe hum a little Frank Sinatra. 😉
Welcome to my virtual happy place.