Okay, so I talk alot about the whole motherhood thing and the whole infertility thing, but I don’t give you all that much of a glimpse into just the me part of me. So today I thought I’d do that. I’m gonna go straight off the cuff and just throw out things that randomly come into my head. And it’ll be all me.
I need space. Lots of it. I’ve always been a bit of a loner. This is why in some ways this whole SAHM thing has been hard for me. No space. I’m thinking I need to move into a place of my own soon. You know when I win the next $232 million lottery. I’ll just build me a house of my own. One where I can have a sound proof room where I can turn up all the cheesy music I love and dance my ass off. For hours. With no one to bother me. And I’ll pretend that I’m twenty again and single and that I am in a club somewhere and all the guys want me. And that my body is firm and smooth and my waist is tiny again. And I’ll walk around the room swaying my hips and ass because my ass will be the thing that everyone says is so fine.
Yeah, that’s more like it.
And I’ll spend hours at the bookstore. Just browsing. And I’ll have like ten books in my hand and I’ll go sit on the floor somewhere in the store and spread the books around me and spend a long time figuring out which ones are worthy to buy. Then I’ll browse some more. Oh, and I’ll finally choose three to five of those books and I’ll leave the store and realize that I left my keys sitting on one of the bookshelves somewhere and I’ll go back in to find them. Then I’ll drive home but I’ll take the long way and maybe stop and get a few more things that suit my fancy or I’ll just drive and think or sing my heart out (even though I can’t sing worth a lick) because the radio keeps playing all the songs I really like.
Aaahhh, now I’m feeling good.
Then maybe I’ll take a long drive to visit one of my best friends. We’ll talk and laugh for hours. Just the two of us. We’ll eat food we love. Lots of it. We won’t care if it’s healthy or low-cal or low-fat. We’ll talk about ourselves and our other friends and the men we love or don’t love. We’ll share secrets. Maybe we’ll cry but then we’ll laugh again. Maybe I’ll try to toast a bagel in the toaster oven but I’ll use a paper towel cause it’s hot and I can’t find the pot holders. And the paper towel will somehow catch on fire and I’ll scare the crap out of her when she hears me yelling that there’s a small fire in her kitchen. She’ll come running but I’ll already have put the fire out by soaking the offending paper towel under the faucet. And she’ll laugh and tell me never to toast anything in her kitchen again without supervision. And we’ll laugh some more. I’ll stay until midnight or one o’clock or maybe I’ll just crash on her couch and go home in the morning. She’ll hug me and I’ll hug back and tell her that once again I used all her toilet paper. But she’ll still ask me to come back again cause she loves me even if I do use an unusually large amount of toilet paper and almost burn her kitchen down.
Sigh, feeling more relaxed than ever.
Maybe I’ll go shopping. For clothes and shoes and whatever else I see that I like. I’ll buy what I want. Cost won’t matter to me. Practicality won’t matter either. I’ll probably take my mother with me because she’s the only one who will tell me it looks good on the hanger but not so good on me. Or she’ll say that makes me look great. And she’ll mean it. Cause she doesn’t lie or try to placate me when it comes to clothes. If it looks bad she’ll tell me. Plus she is better at making decisions than I am. And she always makes me feel like I’m worth spending the money on. And she won’t care if we are gone for hours because she loves to shop. I’ll be ready to call it a day way before she will. And I’ll go home feeling great because I have clothes I love and I spent the day laughing and probably arguing with my mom. But the arguing is okay because we get over it fast. In fact we probably yelled at each other in one breath and then saw some sad creature in the mall that was fifty trying to squeeze herself into clothes made for a seventeen year old and it made us both look at each other in that way we have. Then we laughed until our eyes leaked tears of hysteria and we never uttered a word but knew we were both thinking the same thing.
I’m feeling carefree again.
And I will go home to dance some more and read some more. I’ll drink coffee without interruptions or I’ll gossip with my mom for hours. Or I’ll call one of those girlfriends and gossip and bitch with them. I will feel rested and confident. I won’t really have much to worry about.
Then I will wake up and realize that I miss those days because now I share a house with my husband and my son. Which is good – mostly. But sometimes I miss those days of me. Those days when I made all the choices and it was all about me. Am I wrong for thinking that way? Does it make me a bad mother or wife? Maybe. I’ll let you decide but that’s how I feel sometimes. Right or wrong. Screwed up or not. Sometimes I want it to be all about me again.