11 Confessions of a Really, Really, Real Mom: #5

There’s a new craze in the Facebook world where people are posting a certain number of random facts about themselves. And if you ‘like’ or comment on their post, they’ll give you a number, and you have to come up with that many random facts about yourself. I’m not much for the Facebook crazes but I actually think this one is kind of fun. I’m going to do it a little differently though. I received the number 11 from my good friend, Brandie, and I’m happy to share 11 things about myself. But I’m going to do it here on this trusty blog and share one a day for 11 days. And they’ll be random things about myself specifically relating to motherhood. Let’s call it 11 Confessions from a Really Really Real Mom. Here we go:

Number 5: Sometimes I’m jealous of my friends who don’t have kids. Not that I wish Olivia wasn't around. More that I just envy their ability to do whatever they want, whenever they want—and they don’t even know that they have this ability! For instance, on Friday, as the work day drew to a close, I fantasized about going home, putting on my sweats, drinking a glass of wine, and crawling into bed by 8:30. But I’m a mom and we don’t get to do stuff like that. Meanwhile, my Friends Without Kids (FWK’s for the remainder of this post) probably WEREN'T going home and getting some extra Zzzzzz’s. They were probably squandering the valuable resource of sleep on things like dinner out, or a movie, or a bar, or even dancing the night away. Don’t you FWK’s realize what a precious commodity sleep is????!!!!???? No, no you do not.

I’m not hatin’ on you though. I've been there. I've spent Friday & Saturday nights (and some week days too!) doing what I wanted and never thinking that there might be a day where “down time” is as extinct as the dinosaurs. And I loved every minute of it. Mike and I thought for sure that by the time we became parents we’d have gotten all of that out of our systems. What we didn't realize is what a rude awakening it would be to suddenly realize that your life of old was no more.

When Olivia was about 6 weeks old, Mike and I drove to Louisiana. You can read about that adventure HERE. I didn't mention this then (maybe I was trying to block it out? In fact, I think I pretty much LIED by saying it was a good trip there and back. Self preservation, perhaps?) but the car ride there was a living HELL. Oli screamed most of the way and by the time we arrived in New Orleans, Mike and I were emotionally and physically spent. We called my sister and bro-in-law when we got in so we could pick them up from the French Quarter to go see family. When they answered the phone, they were slightly, ahem, inebriated. We could hear the sounds of the bar in the background and neither of them could tell us where they were. They were giggly and confused and it was clear they had had a great afternoon. We finally were able to discern their babble to figure out where to pick them up and I hung up the phone. “I hate them,” Mike growled. “What? Why? They didn't do anything wrong. They’re just out having fun and drinking.” I responded. “EXACTLY!” he shouted. “I hate them because I want to be them! I want to be out having fun and drinking and enjoying being alive but instead I’m here in this car with a screaming infant. This is HELL!!!”  We both laugh about this story now but at the time it was so true. We were so sleep deprived that we couldn't remember why we had wanted a kid in the first place. Those first few months were rough and we missed our days of eating dinner out on a week night, of sleeping in on a Saturday, of eating food while it was still hot, of watching a movie all the way through. You get the picture.

Fast forward 3 years. Some days, I still miss being able to do what I want, when I want. When someone at work says they went to see such-and-such movie, I feel a tiny pang of jealousy that I probably won’t get to see that movie until it comes out on cable. My Friday and Saturday nights look vastly different than those of my FWK’s. So, as I drove home Friday evening, utterly exhausted and thinking about my FWK’s who could go home and go straight to bed (even though they wouldn't), I felt a little flustered and tried to get my head on straight.

But here’s the weird thing about having a kid: even though I walked in the door completely exhausted, the second I saw my kiddo’s face light up and heard her voice squeal “MOMMY!” like she hadn't seen me in 3 weeks, my fog and funk lifted. It took no effort from me. One second I was wishing for my sweatpants and soft bed, the next I was chatting with my daughter about her day at school and loving every second.

It kind of reminds me of going to the gym. I really don’t like going to the gym. It’s not something I look forward to per say. It’s necessary for my health and weight and blah blah blah but I can think of 3 things off the top of my head that I’d rather do than go work out:

1.       Enter a pie eating contest

2.       Sleep

3.       Get up, go to the kitchen, eat some pie, and go back to sleep

For real. But every time I go to the gym, I am SO glad I did. I love the way I feel after and I love the energy I get from it. And even though I am tired, I really do feel great. That’s how I feel some days when I’m really tired at the end of the work day and just want to be alone. Even though I’m wishing on the ride home that I could just do what I want that evening, the second I see The Boss Lady, this little buzz of energy gives me an incredible second wind and I find myself living in the moment. I’m not thinking about how tired I am or how I’d like to go see a movie or go have a drink at the bar. Okay, maybe I think about those things a *little* bit. But that desire is completely drowned out by the sound of Oli’s voice chattering about her day and telling me about the picture she colored. The kid’s energy is contagious and being around her is good for me. Like going to the gym is better than entering a pie eating contest, spending time with The Boss Lady is better for me than watching a movie or hanging out a bar. That kid gives me perspective and balance and pure joy.

So maybe I didn’t spend Friday night in a bar or curled up in bed. I spent it with my daughter. To all of my FWK’s: live it up! Really, do. I did and I don’t regret it for an instant. Because now I can spend my Friday nights with a little person who both exhausts me and energizes me all at the same time knowing that I had that time to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. This chapter of my life is about spending time with my girl. Besides, she’ll move out eventually and you’ll probably be able to find me at happy hour once again. Until then, I’ll be living it up at home and soaking up every single minute.

A few pics from our very eventful Friday night: 

First, I had dinner with the one and only Snow White! 

We played with Barbies in the dollhouse.

We colored--this was Olivia's picture

This was mine. Don't judge. I had been drinking. Don't judge that either. I said I wasn't out at the bar Friday, not that I was sober. 

We expanded our culinary palettes by trying the cat food. And by "we" I mean "Olivia." Even when I'm drinking and there's no pie in the house, I don't get that desperate.