Freedom to be.... in a trance.

When I was a kid, I dreamt of what adulthood was going to be like. I viewed adults as mystical, wise creatures. People who always had the answers to life's quandaries. People who talked about boring adult things and seemed intelligent and truly interested. People who wore high heeled shoes and lipstick. People with boobs and no bed time and FREEDOM.

Then, sometime in my 20's? Adulthood sneaked in when I wasn't paying attention and stole my true freedom away: my childhood. Because who would want to have meals cooked and served, your laundry done, free education, your major decisions made and the freedom to play, read and ride your horse?

Um..... wait! You FOLD my laundry AND put it away? I want that again!

So I got older and I worked poopy jobs with poopy pay, and I picked some men to pass the time with that were douchebags  wrong for me. And I payed bills and scheduled oil changes and cooked food and birthed babies and picked up dog shit. But, I WAS AN ADULT!...? yaaay?



Sometime after the children were born, I realized something else, as much as I loved my life and my family, and I do, I was freaking exhausted. And as much as I love wearing lipstick and high heels, I'm still freaking exhausted. I think that somewhere along the lines, that wonderful and elusive childhood fantasy of adulthood became a reality and it  just may have broken my spirit.

*Or maybe it was the heinous, judgemental art professor who didn't like anyone that wasn't "special" and "unique" in a way that was just like him and/or all the people who made me feel like being creative was a waste of time. But that is for another day, or therapy.

Seriously though, moments like this make the fact that I have a crippled spirit worthwhile....

Sedation by television.
Serious cuteness happening....

Sedation by food and television.
I'm up for a parenting award....

Occasionally, my husband and I try to break to ho-hum cycle with something fun. Something that calls for no cooking and overpriced liquor; also known Date Night. It goes a little something like this:

Brock: Do you want to go out soon?

Me: Um... let me think.... FUCK YES.

Brock: Okay.... I'll call a sitter.

Thirty minutes later I tell him who I have arranged to watch the Things for the night.

Last Saturday Brock and I took a night off of our parental duties and had a date. We had decisions to make: where to eat, whether or not to watch the game over the wife's head and pretend like we are listening, what to do after dinner, where to park, whether or not to stand in line spent about half an hour in line to see the bluegrass band or to go sit at the jazz bar. Even a night off is fulling of planning and decision making. So when we were properly relaxed after enough alcohol time away from our house, we decided to venture home. I think it was 9 pm at this point, because we be crazy party goers like that. We walked over to the crosswalk and I was feeling sassy so I kicked the button and we waited for the light to tell us when to cross, because quite frankly, it was refreshing that something was going to tell us what to do and when to do it. Plus we both felt relaxed and we were seizing the moment, which is rare. What we failed to realize was that no one was coming..... yet we stood there like sheep...or zombies.... waiting... watching ffor instructions from the crossing light.

Suddenly a young girl drove by in her car (she was probably drunk) with her window rolled down and yelled at us in a mocking tone, "DON'T DO IT! DON'T CROSS! DON'T DO IT!" She shook us out of our comfortable daze and frankly, I thought that it was kind of funny. It was totally something I would have done at her age (or my age). Brock, on the other hand, felt a little wounded. He was frustrated that he wasn't on top of his game and this random drunk chick called him out on it. I soothed his ego and nodded knowingly, saying with confidence, "Oh, she'll get hers. Her fun-time clock is ticking. Just wait."

And we drove home, to pay the sitter and talk about whether or not the children went to bed without a fuss. And we put ourselves to bed at a reasonable hour so that we would be fresh for another new day, in the magical, mystical world of adulthood.