I need to jump out of a perfectly good air
plane. I want to have a precocious conversation over
expensive, red wine with like minded people. I want
to bring sexy back, channel my inner Fergie and dance on
tables (no cameras please).
I. Just. Want. To. Break. My. Momma. Mold.
My daughter gasped the
other night when I came down stairs with my hair straightened,
wearing make up, a pair of jeans and a
plain cute top in preparation
for a NYE get together with another couple. I was flattered,
don’t get me wrong, but the realization that 30 minutes
spent on myself made enough of an impression to make my child
gasp was…well…a tell all.
My sister kidnapped to me
today. We went to lunch and decided to get our day drink on
with a little mid-day margarita. All of a sudden, Prince’s
“When Doves Cry” came over the radio. I had to physically
stop myself from pulling out my signature moves and vocally
assassinating this song. It’s one of my favs. It
seriously hit me, much like the realization that I’m old enough to
be in love with a song by Prince, that I need to get out
more. I need to have a tad
more fun in my life.
Fun. Fun? What is
that anymore? I’m not 30 (something) and jaded or
bored. I’m just at a point in my life where I have to cram
me time in to 2 or 5 or if I’m luck 10 minute
intervals. If hubby and I
decide to get a babysitter, trying to figure out what to do with
ourselves is almost as annoying as 6am on a
Saturday. Why is that? I remember when a good time,
whether it was 2 people or 10 or 20, was a simple formula
of alcohol, music and time.
It doesn’t help that I have a bit of
the eye twitching, walls closing in on me,
why-do-I-live-in-Upstate-NY winter fever.
Nor did it help that I went to put a picture away
today and ended up looking at a photo album circa 2002 for about an
hour. It took an hour because I have a four year old addicted
to detail. I was 21 then and learning how to channel my inner
Fergie. The smiles on my face were genuine, mischievous
Please do not mistake that observation for a woman
who is unhappy in her life now as a 30 (something), wife and
Mother. My glass is most definitely half full (of
rum). I just mean I saw a smile that owned excitement.
Maybe putting that kind of smile on hold is because
it has been in exchange for other things. Things like great
joys in little people and shared moments with my husband.
Perhaps complete abandonment of random fun-ness has made me
appreciate that pee a little in my pants (I’ve had two kids), laugh
out loud moments that no doubt happen when we get together with
I’m not wishing I was at an earlier point in my
life. Lord knows if I tried to shake my humps and drop it
like it’s hot these days, something would get left behind.
Most definitely it would be my pride. I just need a temporary
fix. A hit of life. A hit of anything would be really
great right about now, I’m not gonna lie.
What is a Momma
to do when she begins to feel like a shell of her old fun
self? What “hit of lifes” have you taken that gave you that
“I still got it” feeling? What self affirming challenges have
you taken on when the days just start running in to one