Monday, September 12, 2011

This is my

Sunday Night
Yesterday, I went to my grandmother's retirement community to have brunch with her.  She lives in a really nice place, where there are apartments and houses on the campus and a main building where there are tons of activites going on and a great Sunday brunch.  I noticed that my grandma had out some paints and I asked her if she was painting.  She said she wasn't anymore because it made her "stay up too late at night".  I was confused because she doesn't have anywhere to be in the morning.  I daydreamed to myself that I would love to paint all night and sleep all day.  I spent the rest of the day, watching everyone at brunch.  Some were gathred in couples, relaxed at the tables, laughing, drinking champagne and eating, obviously planning to stay the day.  Another grinning woman was leaving, clutching a stack of Netfilx movies, and I imagined she was off to spend the day watching them.  Yet, there was Grandma, miserable & complaining.  I wondered why she couldn't see that she now had the freedom to do WHATEVER she wants, WHENEVER she wants.
My husband cooking dinner
 She is so busy, missing her old life, that she can't appreciate this new stage.  And then it hit me, that I'm guilty of doing the same thing.  Even after six years of motherhood,  I'm still fighting against change.  I have days when I miss my old job, my pre-baby relationship with my husband, and my pre-pregnancy body.  I tell my husband that I'm jealous because his work life is the same as it has always been.  I'm so busy remembering the way things used to be, I can't see that this stage of my life is pretty good too. Staying in my pajamas, drinking tea, and journaling when my husband leaves for work and my daughter goes to school.  Spending hours at the library or doing crafts with my little one.  I get to see the world through the eyes of a child again.  Nothing "bad" is happening to me.  It's all just different.  And it probably looks pretty darn good to most people because they aren't comparing it to "before".  My old life is gone.  It is impossible to get it back.  And I've got to roll with the punches and stop trying to get it back.

Late summer meal on the patio
So, just for now, I'm going to try to look at things as they are, and enjoy this stage in my life, and stop mourning previous stages.  I want to practice now, so that when I reach the next stage, I can stay up all night painting and enjoy every minute of it.