Missing my old Life
Just the other day I was wearing high heels and I was taking the train downtown to my dream design job in Minneapolis. I probably had an Au Bon Pain coffee in hand and either reading a book or scrolling through my blackberry. (I guess that does age my story a bit, I guess it wasn’t JUST the other day). Now I load up all 3 kids in my dust covered, 10 year old mini van with mud/dog poop on boots to go to the library, town pool or grocery shopping. It’s loud and hectic and I’m probably yelling at someone to stop yelling. I spill my home brewed coffee down the front of my target T shirt and say “Dog-gone-it”. Because that’s what I say now… remember the six ears listening. Wally probably says “Mommy. Mad.”. I try to take a deep breath, but I’m pissed. I really needed that coffee and I’ll have the chuck the shirt in the “work-out” shirt pile, because the stain won’t come out. It’s not that I’m unhappy, I’m just tired and I didn’t think this was how life was going to look.
I’m trying to embrace my new life in the middle of no mans land and living in a yurt. I cook most of our meals instead of getting take out, we play outside on a wood pile (playing ninja warriors of course) instead of going to great city parks. We now buy beef and pork in 1/4 or 1/2 increments from local farms instead of trying out the new restaurant we read about in the paper. We are entertained by a campfire and lighting bugs instead of going downtown to a pub or concert. I make our own yogurt from the milk I get at the local dairy farm and can even go in and pet the cows to thank them for their service. I use to walk a few blocks to the train station and now the “block” I live on is a 4 mile trek around. I no longer hear car and bus traffic but only hear the songs of the crickets enjoying the cool of the evenings.
It’s not the life that I envisioned, it is a pretty good life. I’m blessed beyond words with friends and family that love us deeply. I love the simplicity and uncomplicatedness of the physical and mental world that we are giving to our children. I don’t get to wear my high heels, but I also didn’t have three giggle boxes that I am blessed with. My children won’t get to go to french immersion school or get to go to lots of robotics camps. But they are being given an education on living within your means, using your imagination, and being given the time to slow down, fly a kite together and have conversations about MLK, Ruby Bridges, FDR and our current president. (yes that conversation did just happen the other day. I actually had to pull over and you tube the “I Have a Dream” speech.)
Speaking of conversation however, I was recently asked about why do people have to do a naked dance to get a baby. Say WHAT!? Where and when did that happen?
Stay with me, I may need a hand to hold.