things i miss since becoming a parent

8 Mar

Oh sure, like every parent I miss the usual things like sleep and being able to jet off to exotic lands at a moment’s notice for the weekend,* and going to the bathroom without an audience. But when you become a parent, you adjust to the loss of those things pretty quickly whether you like it or not, and eventually sleep becomes a vague concept, exotic lands are very far away from where I live and thus not really worth the plane flight for a mere 48 hours of different scenery, and well, if you have a dog you gave up going to the bathroom by yourself a long, long time ago.

So no, these are not the things I really miss. The things I miss, since becoming a parent, are much deeper than that.

Sitting at the bar. Swede and I went on a proper date night recently. We went for dinner and drinks and then we went to see a play because we are cultured and shit. And also because tickets were only $15. And we drank our drinks while bellied up to the restaurant bar, and I realized that it is a rare occurrence that I get to sit at the bar and sip some booze. And lo! How nice it was! So adult-like and swanky. And something I just don’t do enough of these days, because bar-sitting is just not conducive to toddlers, particularly those toddlers who like to dick around on barstools rather than just sit in them like a normal person. Also because it is illegal in some states to let people under the age of 21 sit at a bar. But mostly because tiny humans can’t sit still and nothing ruins a good drink faster than having to leave to treat your child for a concussion.

Driving by MYSELF. Listen, I don’t drive a lot in general these days (thank you, commuter train to work, and husband who drives more often than not when we go places) and when I do, it’s usually with two small humans in tow. I love listening to them babble in the backseat, and I can maneuver them in and out of their car seats like a champ. But driving by myself, or even just me and the dog? Wow. Just, WOW.

On Christmas Eve I volunteered to go pick up the pizzas we were serving to our guests (yes, we had pizza, and yes, it was glorious). I got into the car, and after a brief moment of panic when I looked in the rearview mirror and didn’t see either child in their car seat, followed by a quick relief with the realization that they were at home with Swede and various aunts and cousins, well. I have never felt such freedom. I was responsible for no one but myself and pizza! In those 15 minutes, you would have thought I was Julie Fucking Andrews playing Maria von Goddamn Trapp, except instead of a hilltop I was twirling around in a Subaru.

Thinking about one thing at a time. I was going to say that before I had kids I could separate thoughts into individual…thoughts. But now with kids it all just sort of runs together, at a constant, eager clip, because if it doesn’t, then surely 30 things will be forgotten, whereas if you let it all run together only 10 things will be forgotten. (shoesdiapersextraclothesdidwedropoffthecheckforsummercampwhatsfordinnerwhendidwelastbathethechildrenischeeseandacceptabledinnerwhereareallofourpants)

But then I realized that I’ve never thought about one thing at a time, and it’s always run together. Pre-kids it was maybe only thinking about five things at a time, which is admittedly better than my current 712, but it was never just one thing at a time. So this isn’t really a being-a-parent-thing, it’s just an I’ve-always-been-that-way-thing. Yet still I miss those halcyon days of five. I’m not sure my brain actually knows how to think about one thing at a time. So much chatter over and under and over and under each other in my brain, it’s really no wonder I’m in therapy. But I could do without all the clutter in my head, and I’m hopefully that one day the 712 will scale back to the low 300s.

I’m doubtful, but hopeful.

 

*I’ve never done that.

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