I'm all about it.
I still need more layers and textures on the bed, a non-hideous alarm clock (does such a thing exist? Suggestions welcome from you professional shopper types), and the new paint color on the walls (just a deeper version of the tone we already have).
But I have to say, I am very pleased with my little project. Even David likes them!
I think this might be the start of something beautiful.
I'm all about it.
So, I didn't end up going to that thing I said I was going to. I had a very good reason, though, and the purpose of the outing was accomplished - namely, I have taken some steps to rescue my mojo from a very early grave.
1. Have joined a gym, with excellent child care and convenient yoga classes, and gone 4 times this week.
2. Have been on one very lovely date with my husband.
3. Have purchased utterly fabulous new sweater coat, and worn it at every possible opportunity.
4. Have made plans to create something amazing and not too expensive for my soon-to-be (much more) romantic bedroom. I can't give it away yet, but I've always wanted to do it.
Here's a hint:
If you can guess what it is, then you get to come over and help me. :)
(Warning: overwrought philosophical self-indulgence ahead. Danger. Turn back now).
Halloween has gotten me thinking. (In short bursts.)
I used to be the girl who loved to dress up - the more dramatic, the better. I used to actively search out opportunities to visit far-flung destinations, to use a fake name and accent, to make things complicated. And fun. No effort was too great, no adventure too grand, no rationale required. I would drive to another state to try a new restaurant without blinking. Life was exciting. I was living Dead Poet's Society.
I love...everything. I love to go places, see people, do things. Simple as that. Everything sounds like a good idea to me. Or it used to.
Now I have 3 small children, who are absolutely lovely, and everything is infinitely more difficult than it used to be, on every level. Now it takes me 2 weeks to muster up the fortitude to go to the Post Office or the grocery store, let alone a non-essential "fun" activity. I find myself either declining social invitations, or accepting them reluctantly and then finding reasons not to participate or dreading their arrival. I don't know what's the matter with me. Sitting at home with three fractious kids isn't exactly my idea of a good time, either. What do I want?
This isn't a cute problem, like not having time for a shower once in awhile or having PB&J every single day for lunch. (I have those problems too). This is pretty much me wondering where my personality went - the core of myself - whether it's in suspended animation until my kids are older and I don't have to manage their every movement, including chewing, swallowing, and urinating, or whether something in me has fundamentally changed.
I was at lunch the other day (In-N-Out: cheap and close by, which are my only two requirements anymore) and at the table next to me were 4 teenage boys. They looked like some variation on my younger self: gleefully non-conformist, looking to take on the world. I caught them stealing pitying glances at the table next to them, populated by a few balding 30-somethings in shirts and ties, on lunch from their Boring Office Jobs. I knew thy were thinking they would never turn out like that, that they would always be full of energy and vitality and their spirits would never be crushed by something as mundane as a job, or a daunting series of Halloween parties, or a ketchup stain. Life is what you make it!
O Captain, my Captain!
I sat with my daughters, hiding from my kitchen, rationing french fries and encouraging bites of cheeseburger, wondering when I got to be such a fuddy duddy. Why does it seem less frightening to sit home browsing Facebook than to charge out into the world and try something new, or even just compose a serious, coherent blog post? I think it's some combination of the demoralizing effect of calling people and begging them to babysit, or bringing the children and completely missing the point of the chosen activity, or just rationalizing in my mind that whatever it is isn't worth the trouble, would push bedtime too late, would cost too much money.
Well, I'm tired of it. I am boring myself.
It sounds like such a small thing, but to that end, I am planning to attend this event this weekend. It's totally frivolous, my husband will find it unappealing to say the least, I have no Western attire to speak of, and I am certain to spend money I shouldn't. I won't know anyone there. I am afraid of looking like a NieNie fangirl, which I am not. (I mean, I read her blog, but who doesn't?) I am irritated with myself for worrying that I will appear to be a poseur (I mean, if that's my primary concern, then don't I already qualify? Geez.) I'll need to find a babysitter. I will probably have to get a nap so I don't fall asleep standing up at a booth like a narcoleptic old grandpa.
But you know what? It sounds fun. I think it's worth fighting for. I'm not dead yet! I'm hoping there's a little spark in there somewhere that can survive the years of raising young children and live to tell about it. I'm hoping that when I emerge, I will be a better version of my adventurous, fun-loving self: less selfish, calmer, wiser.
But I still need to be able jump up on my desk when the moment calls for it.
Carpe Diem, indeed. See you all at the shindig.
I gotta tell you, Halloween wore me out this year.
David was out of town, I was recovering from what presumably was the Piggy Flu, and the pressure of costuming and transporting three small children, 2 of whom were TREMENDOUSLY invested in Halloween this year, was almost too much for me. I did a Very Smart Thing by scrapping (ha, ha!) Devlin's Tin Man costume because it prevented him from sitting, standing, and jumping in a bouncy house comfortably and it fell apart repeatedly. I got this simple, warm, adorable giraffe number for $9 from Once Upon A Child and it was the best investment I've ever made. Last year I won at making costumes. This year I do not. I feel no guilt about this whatsoever.
Last night was the "real" Halloween, with trick-or-treating and all, and it went very smoothly. However, I have already made arrangements next year for David to take the little dears all over town collecting candy, while I will sit quietly on our doorstep and pass it out instead. I think this is a much better plan.
Now come the holidays I actually like! Bring it on.