Today’s fantasy involves packing a small carry on bag, holding only some sunscreen, a kindle loaded with books and a couple of swimsuits with my super cute yellow cover up that could double as a dress for going into any establishment that doesn’t appreciate my desire to wear my suit 24/7. Jumping on a plane and heading to some beachy destination. Where I do not have cell coverage and I sleep in a little grass hut on the beach with nothing but my reading, perhaps a conversational partner and the sound of the sea to amuse myself. And no return ticket in my pocket.
Could I really abandon life as I know it and go somewhere alone and new and start over? Most days, the answer to that question is no. And if you’re asking Logical Niki, the answer would always be no. I have work, I have board meetings, I have to drive a kid to dance/gymnastics/school/band practice, et cetera. But I still find myself staring out the window at the blue cloudless sky and wondering and dreaming of a life that is all mine and unencumbered.
Now here is where you judge me and think “Humpf. Some mother she is. I would never think of taking off. I love being a mother. How unappreciative is she?” I call bullshit. I think this little daydream fantasy lurks in everyone. I think a lot of people stifle it under the responsibility they carry like a badge of honor. I love my kids. I love them when they wake up. I love them when they’re asleep. I love them when they puke all over my carpet. I love them when they tell me they hate me. I love them when they are driving me batshit crazy talking to me about One Direction while I’m trying to read a book/listen to a song I love, or just enjoy a quiet moment. I love them when they’re fighting and I love them when I catch them playing together. There isn’t one single moment with them that I would trade and I would never ever leave them. Really.
But when I’m on my 4th day in a row with less than 5 hours of sleep. When I’m on the third month of struggling to lose any of the extra 20 pounds I’ve been carrying since before I became a mother. When I’m mediating disputes about who posted what on Instagram. When I am changing my clothes 2 minutes before I have to walk out the door because a toddler peed on me. When I’m trying hard to remember who I was before I adopted this new identity. I daydream about being Just Niki again. Because sometimes I forget.
I forget that I really love rock and metal music. I forget that reading makes me feel like I’ve stepped into a new world to get lost in. I forget that I like to feel pretty and do my hair and paint my nails. I forget that it’s a little bit of heaven when you can sit down and look another person in the face and have a conversation about music and books and lifeviews without being interrupted. Sometimes I forget so much about myself that I wonder if even I know who I actually am any more. I’m working really hard to find that girl and get to know her again. She’s been lost in the laundry and diapers for a while, but I know she’s in there. So if you find me staring off starry-eyed, pay no mind. I’m either on a beach somewhere or getting to know myself again.
Could I really abandon life as I know it and go somewhere alone and new and start over? Most days, the answer to that question is no. And if you’re asking Logical Niki, the answer would always be no. I have work, I have board meetings, I have to drive a kid to dance/gymnastics/school/band practice, et cetera. But I still find myself staring out the window at the blue cloudless sky and wondering and dreaming of a life that is all mine and unencumbered.
Now here is where you judge me and think “Humpf. Some mother she is. I would never think of taking off. I love being a mother. How unappreciative is she?” I call bullshit. I think this little daydream fantasy lurks in everyone. I think a lot of people stifle it under the responsibility they carry like a badge of honor. I love my kids. I love them when they wake up. I love them when they’re asleep. I love them when they puke all over my carpet. I love them when they tell me they hate me. I love them when they are driving me batshit crazy talking to me about One Direction while I’m trying to read a book/listen to a song I love, or just enjoy a quiet moment. I love them when they’re fighting and I love them when I catch them playing together. There isn’t one single moment with them that I would trade and I would never ever leave them. Really.
But when I’m on my 4th day in a row with less than 5 hours of sleep. When I’m on the third month of struggling to lose any of the extra 20 pounds I’ve been carrying since before I became a mother. When I’m mediating disputes about who posted what on Instagram. When I am changing my clothes 2 minutes before I have to walk out the door because a toddler peed on me. When I’m trying hard to remember who I was before I adopted this new identity. I daydream about being Just Niki again. Because sometimes I forget.
I forget that I really love rock and metal music. I forget that reading makes me feel like I’ve stepped into a new world to get lost in. I forget that I like to feel pretty and do my hair and paint my nails. I forget that it’s a little bit of heaven when you can sit down and look another person in the face and have a conversation about music and books and lifeviews without being interrupted. Sometimes I forget so much about myself that I wonder if even I know who I actually am any more. I’m working really hard to find that girl and get to know her again. She’s been lost in the laundry and diapers for a while, but I know she’s in there. So if you find me staring off starry-eyed, pay no mind. I’m either on a beach somewhere or getting to know myself again.
Love it!!
ReplyDeleteErica