I have decided that I am having a midlife crisis. I turn 40 this year and it seems like I have been spending a great deal of time taking inventory of my life and feeling unfulfilled. I regret not applying myself more in college and finding out what I really wanted as my vocation. I watch "House Hunters International" and bemoan the fact that I never studied abroad when I was in college and fully immersed myself in another culture and its language.
With this in mind, I have decided to try and do and accomplish some of the things I put on the back burner. I am going to look into renewing my understanding of Spanish. I am also not going to sit around and wait for the right moment to go see a baseball game or attend a concert. I will take the boys on a trip this summer and allow them to be silly and carefree; to be kids. Taking dance lessons with my love is on the list as well. My biggest ambition is to save the funds to travel to Europe.
I was a camp counselor for an exclusive all girls camp in the summer of 1993 and formed a great friendship with Alison, a Brit I have affectionately deemed "limey". She returned to The States the summer of 1994 and I took her around my stomping grounds. That was the last time we saw one another. She has made it perfectly clear that I am welcome to stay with her if and when I get the means to simply board the plane and travel across the pond.
The problem with the goals I have set is that they involve money. I only dreamed of being wealthy when I was a child and thought there was great importance in accumulating wealth. I no longer have that desire, but I also acknowledge that my part-time, meager paying job is not up to snuff to fund any of my desired adventures. This is where the backward glance and forward hope has me completely frustrated with my present situation.
Every summer I have told the boys that I want to take them fun places and experience adventures with them and every summer I fall short. Rather than dwelling in the frustration, I need it to transform into motivation and determination to make dreams become reality. For the most part, my dreams are simple and attainable but my mind often tries desperately to grasp the entire picture and it leaves me overwhelmed. I'm slowly learning that I need to break the big picture into smaller pictures. I have started this learning process when it comes to running longer distances, now I need to apply it to every aspect of my life.
So I start this day with the intention of moving forward and only gleaning from the backward glances for the purposes of wisdom.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
BFF....
This past weekend I spent some time with my best friend who is pictured with me in my profile photo (I have short hair). I have been spending more time with her in the last few months because we are both going through some life situations that are best shelved when we can laugh about some of the more ridiculous decisions we have made. We often relax on the couch and enjoy watching, "House Hunters International" or as I have come to call it, "Let's Get Depressed And Regret The Choices We Have Made" show.
This past Saturday was a bit different than most of our visits. We usually have all of our boys so we do things around the house like drinking a beer while watching football or hockey games. However, we were childless on Saturday night and Christine made plans for us to see a local band. She told me that it was a ladies' night out and she had invited a friend she had met through a school event. I was fine with the plans but then once her friend arrived she mentioned that we would be picking up another woman and that woman had invited one of her friends.
Stop. Hit the brakes. Halt. Did you read the previous lines that Christine and I often watched sporting events while drinking a beer? Yes, I wrote that. I am a tomboy-always have been and always will be and it was a blessing that I had boys. I am not a prissy girl. I do NOT enjoy shopping and I have never had a manicure. I'm pretty certain I was panicked that I did not have an epi pen in my purse for fear of the anaphylaxis I was certain to suffer from all the estrogen. Another thing about me that is certainly not dainty is my appetite. I am an eater. I am not a, "Oh, I'll just have a salad," kind of girl. Bring me a platter full of food and keep your hands close at your sides. Why do I mention this? Because we arrived at the bar and I said, "Hey, I'm hungry. Is anyone going to eat? I am ." Of course they weren't hungry.
Drinks and my dinner is served and the friend of the friend of the friend removes her jacket to reveal artificially tanned breasts bursting out of her shirt. I was certain I was going to find colostrum in my drink. I do not have issues with women looking sexy and enjoying themselves but this evening quickly turned into a bad regurgitated version of "Sex In The City" and I didn't have a boyfriend named Mr. Big or a separate closet for expensive shoes. A group of divorced women just seemed far too cliche and I was wallowing in misery.
Where was my friend, Christine? Christine the girl who can make me laugh about the most mundane and everyday things. She was complimenting the shirt bursting girl and dancing to the band I was supposed to be enjoying. What was I doing? I was watching the Detroit Red Wings instead. I had no interest in displaying any of my physical attributes, no matter how big or small. I had grown tired of hearing these women complain about their ex-husbands and then discuss how large some guy's junk was.
If I am girly in any part of my life, it is my love of romance. I am in love with an amazing man, who like me, enjoys discussing books, sports, travel and simply being ridiculous. Saturday night was a scary glimpse into what life could be for me if I don't cherish the love I have been blessed to share. Despite having survived an abusive marriage, I do not nor will I ever, hate men. It was the behavior I witnessed that made me dislike my own gender. It also saddened me. It saddened me that I did not enjoy my time with Christine because she had the best of intentions, but I was too far out of my element. But again, it provided me with an eye-opening experience. These women lamented their past relationships but they also rejoiced being away from their children while I was deeply missing mine.
Christine will continue to be my bestfriend (unless she reads this) but maybe next time, I will make the plans.
This past Saturday was a bit different than most of our visits. We usually have all of our boys so we do things around the house like drinking a beer while watching football or hockey games. However, we were childless on Saturday night and Christine made plans for us to see a local band. She told me that it was a ladies' night out and she had invited a friend she had met through a school event. I was fine with the plans but then once her friend arrived she mentioned that we would be picking up another woman and that woman had invited one of her friends.
Stop. Hit the brakes. Halt. Did you read the previous lines that Christine and I often watched sporting events while drinking a beer? Yes, I wrote that. I am a tomboy-always have been and always will be and it was a blessing that I had boys. I am not a prissy girl. I do NOT enjoy shopping and I have never had a manicure. I'm pretty certain I was panicked that I did not have an epi pen in my purse for fear of the anaphylaxis I was certain to suffer from all the estrogen. Another thing about me that is certainly not dainty is my appetite. I am an eater. I am not a, "Oh, I'll just have a salad," kind of girl. Bring me a platter full of food and keep your hands close at your sides. Why do I mention this? Because we arrived at the bar and I said, "Hey, I'm hungry. Is anyone going to eat? I am ." Of course they weren't hungry.
Drinks and my dinner is served and the friend of the friend of the friend removes her jacket to reveal artificially tanned breasts bursting out of her shirt. I was certain I was going to find colostrum in my drink. I do not have issues with women looking sexy and enjoying themselves but this evening quickly turned into a bad regurgitated version of "Sex In The City" and I didn't have a boyfriend named Mr. Big or a separate closet for expensive shoes. A group of divorced women just seemed far too cliche and I was wallowing in misery.
Where was my friend, Christine? Christine the girl who can make me laugh about the most mundane and everyday things. She was complimenting the shirt bursting girl and dancing to the band I was supposed to be enjoying. What was I doing? I was watching the Detroit Red Wings instead. I had no interest in displaying any of my physical attributes, no matter how big or small. I had grown tired of hearing these women complain about their ex-husbands and then discuss how large some guy's junk was.
If I am girly in any part of my life, it is my love of romance. I am in love with an amazing man, who like me, enjoys discussing books, sports, travel and simply being ridiculous. Saturday night was a scary glimpse into what life could be for me if I don't cherish the love I have been blessed to share. Despite having survived an abusive marriage, I do not nor will I ever, hate men. It was the behavior I witnessed that made me dislike my own gender. It also saddened me. It saddened me that I did not enjoy my time with Christine because she had the best of intentions, but I was too far out of my element. But again, it provided me with an eye-opening experience. These women lamented their past relationships but they also rejoiced being away from their children while I was deeply missing mine.
Christine will continue to be my bestfriend (unless she reads this) but maybe next time, I will make the plans.
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