Road Map.

I love silence.

I love peaceful mornings and sleep.

I like s-p-a-c-e away from other people.

Was I truly meant to be a mother?  In this day and age where everything is a choice I sometimes wonder, reflecting back if I took the right road.  Naivety made me think I could have it all.  No, that’s not what I mean…because I do have it all.  I thought I could DO it all.  And be happy, and at peace.  The doing in the having of the babies, and the keeping up with a career, and maintaining self interests like yoga and running and friendships.  I did it all for a year before my second child was born.  What did I learn? You don’t get more fulfilled.  You get busier.  And in the business, you become more organized, to create more time, for more STUFF.  It’s a never ending spiral.

Forget the rat on the wheel.  Society leads us to believe that we as families can get on the wheel…and it will be fun like the carnival.  What they leave out is that it’s the scary kind with those mean, overly painted masked clowns who pop out from behind hidden doors and walls.  Instead of yelling “Boo!” It becomes: “Dayhome cancelled 6am the day of and you have to be at work in an hour! Figure it out!” or “Wham! Car parts need replacing! Can you figure out the logistics of living without a car while having work and appointments and affording the extra $1000 this month!”

So I quit my career.  And we moved internationally.  And I switched from one carnival ride to another.  This time it was having a second baby.  The rush and excitement of caressing my new little one.  Taking in all the sweetness of the way a baby smells and hearing little sniffles and the soft, soft snuggle of skin to skin. This time it felt like one of those rides that spins.  Slowly at first.  So much fun; feeling the fresh breeze of something new in your face.  Then after a while the dizziness starts to seep into your pores.  Sleep deprivation. The bank of patience is dipped into again and again without ever getting replaced and weeks later you find yourself weeping, just wanting off the damn carnival ride.

But that’s not where I was going with this.  I won’t wallow in self pity. There are still hard days but they are fewer and far between.  Everything is getting better and the patience bank is replenished. It took a year, but life is starting to feel normal.  Equilibrium has been set.  Has my body and mind just adjusted to the ride as normal?  My question now arises from a recent houseguest we had.

Everything about their lives was leading them towards kids.  The kindest, gentlest people filled with hope and love and light.  And despite the wanting, and the trying, and the trying, and the trying. Kids weren’t in the cards.  So why us? Jack and I?  I’m not even really sure Jack was for having kids.  He was on the fence with two feet on the green DINK’s grass (dual income, no kids).  And then it just happened.  We weren’t trying, but we weren’t not trying.  Kind of a funny russian roulette.  And although I wanted kids, I didn’t have a good understanding of what that would mean.  Did I evaluate what type of person I am? Nope.  You see I fear people don’t know me for who I really am.

I am filled to the brim with ego.  Which gets triggered into power struggles with a 3 year old.

I love silence.  Have you been around any kids? Ever?

I like everything in it’s place.  Ummm when was the last time you met a child whose play didn’t include the entire living room with throw cushions and coasters and the winter box of scarves and mittens and toques (in the middle of summer)?

I like everything clean. Mashed avocado on the floor and pasta sauce on the walls isn’t the decor that suits my style.

So why me?  I feel so undoubtedly inadequate.  I feel like I need a parent or a teacher or something to teach me how to do this that is my life now.  I love my children.  More than anything else in this entire universe.  More than I love my own life

and my sense of self

and my yoga

and my running

and my silence

and my cleanliness

and my tidyness

and my sanity.

But how on earth did it happen that the universe gave me such a wonderful gift.  To open my eyes.  To open my heart.  And to create a change in my foundation.  When these people that stayed with us were already prepared for it all?  Where  is the fairness in that?

I believe the universe is friendly. Correction. I try to always trust that the universe is friendly.  But it certainly isn’t fair.  And I feel like I’ve won the lottery.  But I don’t deserve it because there were people out there who were hungrier than me.

But what if it isn’t about deserving, or even needing? Maybe it’s not about taking the right road.  Or any road at all.  Maybe it isn’t a choice.  That is just your road. And if we just keep our headlights on, we can see the next few feet.  And if we follow the next few feet again and again it will take us farther until the sun rises and we can look around and see where we have come.  It’s a good place and I am lucky to be here.

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