A love letter to my life
I was lying in bed tonight, nursing my happy, little, sleepy baby and listening to my toddler splash in the tub with her dad, and it struck me with sudden force how lucky I am to have this life.
I got an email from an old friend today who said she is single again, her clock is ticking, and she's "jealous of [my] life with babies."
It made me stop and think, lying there in the dark, about how (despite all my complaining) I'm living the happily-ever-after part of a fairy tale.
This summer marks 10 years since I met Chris. A decade since I forced my friend to go to a "grownup" bar in a part of town we never went, so I could meet someone my own age (kind of ironic that I met someone three years younger). A different century since I pointed Chris out across the room and said, "That's my dream guy" and stalked him the rest of the night, until he acknowledged me. A lifetime since we ended up kissing in the rain and my knees melted and I told all my friends I'd met a god.
It made me shiver a bit, to think of what could've been if we hadn't met. If I hadn't set my will to go to that terrible bar (called "the Firestation"!) that night, to take fate into my own hands.
It's terrifying to think of a version of me in an alternate universe who spent this last decade struggling along, never meeting Mr. Right, tangled in a series of dead-end relationships because being with the wrong person is better than being alone. Not having Chris in my life, constantly steering me clear of the rocks. Not having my babies to love and kiss and cry out my name.
Thank god for this life. Thank god for colic and tantrums and tripping over toys and a flabby body and no free time.
These are signs that I have everything my heart desired.
I got an email from an old friend today who said she is single again, her clock is ticking, and she's "jealous of [my] life with babies."
It made me stop and think, lying there in the dark, about how (despite all my complaining) I'm living the happily-ever-after part of a fairy tale.
This summer marks 10 years since I met Chris. A decade since I forced my friend to go to a "grownup" bar in a part of town we never went, so I could meet someone my own age (kind of ironic that I met someone three years younger). A different century since I pointed Chris out across the room and said, "That's my dream guy" and stalked him the rest of the night, until he acknowledged me. A lifetime since we ended up kissing in the rain and my knees melted and I told all my friends I'd met a god.
It made me shiver a bit, to think of what could've been if we hadn't met. If I hadn't set my will to go to that terrible bar (called "the Firestation"!) that night, to take fate into my own hands.
It's terrifying to think of a version of me in an alternate universe who spent this last decade struggling along, never meeting Mr. Right, tangled in a series of dead-end relationships because being with the wrong person is better than being alone. Not having Chris in my life, constantly steering me clear of the rocks. Not having my babies to love and kiss and cry out my name.
Thank god for this life. Thank god for colic and tantrums and tripping over toys and a flabby body and no free time.
These are signs that I have everything my heart desired.
Comments
Why are we so 'OMG I'm so lucky!' lately?! Is there something in the water? I guess it's just because there really are a lot of unhappy people out there, and when you put it all in perspective we have very good lives.
Except for me, I'm going to be calling orphanages today to see if they'll take an 8-month old who has been waking up in the dead of night and refusing to go back to sleep on her own.
Sorry to hear about Jenny. Let me know if the orphanage is accepting adorable little babyzillas - I've got one screaming right now (no idea why).