What an ogre I was. The Yuck had left me unyielding and unshifting, someone I’m not. All since July.
I wasn’t letting the kids be kids. Too much structure. Too much control. Order. Quiet. Little statues to adorn the sides of my fireplace. I have chips and a huge dent in the drywall from where my rage got the better of me and I threw a Little People garage towards the safety gate and missed. A monument to a person I hope is long gone. Someone I hope is fixed because I decided to change a few things.
And I have much to be thankful for: My health, my home, my family, my friends. I have been feeling and doing much! better since I started eating better. I wouldn’t necessarily say I’m on a diet, because I’m not. We never really had cakes and biscuits in the house before, and now we have Costco 3-packs of Carr’s (made in Scotland, no less!) Ginger and Lemon Cremes. Two is a serving. I know! Two! And, I’ve lost weight to boot. Eight pounds in 3 weeks. But I swear I’m not dieting. No, really. All I have been doing is adhering to serving sizes on the back of the box. It’s easy for the most part — except when it comes to pasta. Two ounces is a serving? Really?! I’d be better off buying a Gerber Stage 3 pasta dinner, there’d be more in that tiny jar, let me tell you. I think Barilla is taking the Micky. I mean, come on! Two ounces? You know they’re sitting in their cushy wee corporate offices with half a pound of farfalle between two of them, laughing till somebody snorts a hunk of it down their nose.
No, but I’m not bitter. Yep, I’m not.
Who knew? I’d be feeling dumpy and gloomy, so I’d eat chocolate. But all that would do is eventually make me feel worse. So then I’d eat more sugar, and the sinking feelings still weren’t going away. . . I was going around in a circle. And becoming a circle!
It’s started a revolution.
So. I’ve decided. I’m tired of hearing it, so I’m just going to live.
Enjoy being young, you have fit legs, youth is wasted on the young.
Enjoy dating, it’s all serious business and responsibility after you get married.
Enjoy just the two of you, everything changes when you have children.
Enjoy when they’re babies, they grow so fast.
Enjoy them when they’re throwing fits and imploding, they’ll be teenagers soon.
Enjoy being in your 30’s/40’s, don’t take life so seriously now.
Enjoy your grandkids, you can hand them back.
Enjoy the young, they have fit legs. Youth is wasted on the young.
I’m stopping it all. I’m dropping out of the cycle. Forget it. I’m living for myself. I keep hearing “Children are an heritage of the Lord” (I’m letting the kids be kids and enjoying what we have. Lining up dining chairs and making trains for hours until we get tired of it. I’m having water fights and making homemade playdough. They’re eating off of the ‘good’ grown-up plates and drinking from proper glasses that have the potential to smash, but I don’t care so much, because every day is a special occasion. They’re sitting and laughing with me and getting to know their mother. ) or thinking about how Christ always went to the children first and blessed them. Or how we should become like little children.
Getting to also know she has a sick sense of humour.
I’m playing hide and seek, but not in a cute-come-find-me kinda way. In the he-can’t-find-me-and-starts-freaking-out way. Sure, they’ll have abandonment issues and will likely pay thousands to retreive their sanity, but for now, it’s nice to feel wanted.
One of my new favourite things to do is have Ian lie on the carpet and drop cashews into his mouth. We laugh together when one slides right in. We giggle and squirm when one bounces off of his teeth or slides down his neck.
We’re all learning and growing, and I couldn’t be happier.