I feel rusty at this blogging thing. I'm trying to write out what is on my mind, but I feel like it comes out whiny instead of clever and a little funny. Come to think of it, a lot of things feel rusty.
It's actually kind of a running joke in my family... When I try to be funny no one thinks I'm joking and they take me seriously. Oh well, the best jokes are the ones you have to explain.
*sigh* I feel like I'm having to re-assess my entire paradigm lately. Where I was once a single person unit - quick moving, agile, mobile, like a sea-doo - I am now a three-person unit that moves at the pace of a manatee pulling a cruise ship into port.
Now, let's be clear. Milo-the-fluid-factory-that-is-the-center-of-my-universe is a chubby life-form of PURE JOY. So I don't mind the inevitable rustiness that comes from giving so much of yourself to grow and birth and care for a child. The process is so demanding that it causes permanent physical changes down to your bones. And yet, to make him safe, I would give so much more.
I don't regret one bit of my life, but sometimes I stagger at the degree of change I've experienced in the last 5 years.
July 2008, 25 years old, I had just graduated with my MBA, moved to NYC and started my job with Time Warner. My life was town-cars, high heels, nice dinners and late nights. I loved my life.
July 2013, 30 years old, 3 years married, 6 mo-old baby, managing apartments in San Diego where my husband is about to start law school. My life is my neighbor's mariachi music, canvas tennis shoes, baby-spit up and street-tacos on the beach. I still love my life.
What is my point exactly? You can have it all, you just can't have it all at once.