A beautiful rut

Sometimes I get stuck in a rut. You know, where I wonder how in the world I ended up here because it’s not as glamorous as I fantasized.

These days typically occur when my babes are having especially difficult days, or Miss H pulls out the photos of my life post-high school but pre-J and kids (all 3 years!).

It should go without saying that I adore my children and husband and the life we have together. I honestly would not change a single thing. I wouldn’t do anything sooner or later or not at all or differently or anything. I am exactly at the place in my beautiful life where I should be and I want to be.  

But it doesn’t mean that some days, I’m not just like “WTF?”

Before kids and J I did live a glamorous, adventurous life there for a short bit. I attended university on full scholarship, which allowed me to put my hard earned money toward traveling the world and creating memorable life experiences. I have been places, seen things, done things that most people will only ever read about in books and magazines or see on television, and that’s if they’re lucky.

I’ve been incredibly fortunate.

Even that brief time together that J and I had pre-baby we were constantly doing without worrying about anything or anyone else. We backpacked through Spain, spent weekends in Maine eating lobster and in Sicily devouring canoli. We went parasailing in Aruba and spent too much time in Paris drinking. We wandered through the streets of Dublin and London. We had the luxury of eating without anyone else demanding our food. We could spend hours in a restaurant talking about everything and nothing without small people whining and needing entertainment, or having to rush home before their bedtimes. Quite frankly, we could have sex wherever and whenever we wanted instead of having to schedule it strategically during naptime or after small people were in bed, hoping that they didn’t wake up and, of course, actually having the energy to do it.

During those years I envisioned a wholly different life. My application was filled out and just one click away from being submitted to join the Peace Corps only weeks before J got down on one knee. I was going to change the world. Save it, maybe.

I was going to be “successful.” You know, I was going to have a real career and make lots of money and continue on with the same “me me me” lifestyle I had fallen into greedily with the freedom of being a young adult who, for the first time in her life, had no other responsibilities other than herself and the ones she had chosen on her own.

And then things changed. I learned that a thing called “love” was real, not just in fairy tales and romantic comedies, but in real life too. And despite all my preconceived beliefs, I allowed myself to succumb to it. And I found myself romantically planning a little family. And changing gears from academia and career to wife and momma. With the real kicker being when I held the acceptance letters to two Law Schools in my hands and then very confidently said, “No.”

And despite choosing this all, and loving it, I sometimes fantasize and recollect those very brief years my life was centered on me. Where I could do what I want when I wanted. And there were no repercussions for anyone but myself.

But I am so thankful for that time. It allowed for me to grow and blossom as a human being. It allowed me to expand in ways I didn’t know were possible or even necessary. I spent my childhood learning how to be responsible. How to cook and clean and care for children and myself. And it turns out it was, in fact, preparing me for my life. But I got to spend those few years on my own learning what it means to be responsible only for yourself. Not having anyone tell you what to do. No one chastising you to load the dishwasher or put your shoes away. And it was phenomenal.

Of course, no one tells me what to do now, either. But I’m a wife. A mother. I have responsibilities. Responsibilities far greater than just taking care of myself. And yet, taking care of myself may be the greatest responsibility of all.

You cannot properly raise children in a healthy manner if you don’t first care for yourself. And getting that time to focus on myself taught me that. You can’t be a good wife if you aren’t good to yourself.

So when my babes are screaming at me, or fighting, or it’s been a week or more since I last saw my husband and I feel like things are just too much, I let myself think of those sweet memories that allowed me to be ready for this. All that time that allowed me to figure out who I am and what I want from my life, not who others expect me to be or what they wanted for my life.

And it’s a beautiful thing. I licked Roman ruins which gives me the strength to just turn away when my son picks up a straw from the bathroom floor and starts licking it. I peed all over myself in Pisa while a train passed by so I know I can handle my toddler’s warm urine running down the side of my shirt in Target. I scuba dived with giant sea turtles in Hawaii, so swimming with two babies solo is a piece of pie. I spent a week eating nothing but cheese and nutella, so I know that if we just eat smoothies and nachos two days in a row, we’ll survive.

I have a lot of life experiences. Good. Bad. Beautiful. Ugly. They’ve all brought me right here. Right now.

So when I get in a rut I just remember it all. I'm thankful for it all.

And I remind myself that though it was all amazing, none of it was half as amazing as the family I have. Not one thing in my life has ever happened that was more phenomenal than hearing two beautiful children say “Momma” and knowing that they think I’m the greatest thing in the world (for now) or having a husband who loves me unconditionally and is always on my team.

Yeah, sometimes I get in a rut. And then I remember a beautiful life I once had. And the life I have now, that is more beautiful than words could ever describe.