{how the hell did that get there?}
Yesterday, I opened the garage door and was flabbergasted to see a minivan parked inside. Utterly shocked. I shut the door quickly, hoping it would magically disappear. It did not. Turns out the giant silver bullet is mine.
This happens every few weeks: moments where I’m stunned to realize my house has been taken over by toys, I’m wearing the same thing I did the day before, there’s a minivan parked in my garage and two kids who look vaguely like me keep calling me “mom.” It usually only lasts a few seconds, but it feels like I’ve been plunked right into a life I don’t recognize and never planned on.
Oh, please tell me this happens to you, too.
I vividly remember standing in my boss’s office about a dozen years ago, telling myself I would never wind up like him. He had three young kids, hadn’t been to a movie with his wife in ages, and couldn’t even be persuaded to attend an after-work happy hour {“too many family commitments, blah-blah-blah”}. I remember him saying someday I would understand. I wholeheartedly doubted it. At the time, I was on a different plane to a different city most weeks, creating PR events and babysitting celebrity spokespeople. Life was good…and fun…and easy…and I figured someday I would have a family, too – just not the kind that takes over your life and keeps you from going to happy hours. And no way, no how would I ever own a mom-mobile.
Fast forward to 2012 and looky here: I’m knee-deep in that life I was once so sure I’d loathe. Every now and then, I have a multi-second freak-out, like yesterday’s “oh-my-god-i-have-a-minivan?” moment. I also survived yesterday’s “take that fruit snack out of your nose” moment, several “stop hitting your brother” moments and approximately 127 opportunities to say, “do you have to go potty?”
But I also had a great big a-ha moment. Just after making a bagel-and-cheese-and-chocolate-milk lunch for Tru, I was invited to a last-minute happy hour. With grown-ups I like and big girl drinks and no one wiping their mouth on my sleeve.
But I said no.
I could have gone – it was on the one night of the week when nothing was scheduled {no basketball, no choir, no play dates}. But I knew in an instant that I’d rather be at home, chilling with my family, than out on the town. I didn’t want to miss bedtime stories, pajama snuggles or sharing favorite parts of our day. Right then and there, I realized someday had arrived: the day my boss predicted, when I would finally understand why he steered clear of happy hour, why he was constantly carpooling kids from here to there, why date nights took a backseat to…well, everything else.
This is my someday…and it’s nothing like I’d planned. It’s way better.
Yes, yes, and yes! Wouldn’t trade my life for anything, but REMEMBER my pre-kids life…what did I ever do with all that time?! The funniest thing is that I had a silver mini van and called it the Silver Bullet, too! When it finally gave out last fall, and could get something else, (my kids are 10 and 9 now)I still went for another one!!!! My friends thought I was nuts!
Ha! I get it – I fought the minivan for so long and now it’s SO handy! I can move furniture! I can fit groceries AND a stroller! I can’t hear my own child yelling at me from the way back. It is bliss. ;o)
You are living the dream!
Too funny. I remember it well! I also remember having young children and looking at women in their 50′s with the same “that will never be me” thinking. Now I am in my 50′s and doing the “never be me” things. Life has a way of delivering exactly what we need to be when we need it!
let me brace you for the preteen phase…when you have to deal with middle school, drugs, alcohol, sneaking out, and social media. that’s when i finally said this can’t possibly be my life…dealing with one challenge after another!! as teenagers they calmed down and now for me it is sooo much easier!! and am happy to be a mom again!
Gee, thanks Kathryn. I might just drive off in my silver bullet and never come home!! ;o)
Great Post! Really enjoyed reading it, glad I found your blog!
I hate to say I told you so — no, wait — no I don’t! I hope you don’t remember everything I told you — just the really good stuff.
gz
You taught me this and also how to hide a stapler in a jello mold. Both have served me quite well.
Oh. Oh dear. I struggle against the mini van/station wagon and I DON’T have kids! I want something sporty! But I need to haul stuff! (Ah, the joys of small business ownership. won’t trade it for a small car though) I refuse to drive a Subaru!
I look around often and remember that I never meant to land here, in Northern Nevada 500 miles from my family and the warm place where I was born. Never thought I would find myself deciding whether to skate today or get some paperwork done. Ultimately, I love my little house and my puppy dog and the parrot’s sing a longs. I have to admit though, if I could scoop up everything that is wonderful about here and plop it in San Diego, I’d do it.
I loved this Liv!! Exactly why I’m having trouble going the other direction now that our nest is empty.
Totally happens to me too Liv – what has happened to us? Maybe we can race our mini-vans? Use them for a truck tour?