Friday, November 23, 2012


I'm officially a prisoner in my own home.

It's Black Friday, and I'd rather stick a fork in my eye than visit any sort of retail store or even attempt to drive around in the vicinity of one. It's cold and windy and it was everything I could do to walk the dog this morning before treating myself to two huge, steaming mugs of coffee with Rum Chata.

There are definite benefits to downsizing to a smaller home. Today I'm not seeing them. I have three kids playing the PS2. Right. Behind. Me. And I can hear another one downstairs on his Bluetooth playing the PS3 with who knows who. The dog, afraid of the two strangers in the house, is hunkered at my feet growling. I'm surrounded by boxes of Christmas decorations that I am half-heartedly unpacking, wondering with each strand of lights if this is enough to placate the kids.

Don't get me wrong. I'm thrilled that my kids are home, in relatively good moods, and not fighting. And I'm thankful to have the day off and to have a roof over my head and clothes on my back and food in my fridge, blah, blah, blah. It just seems that lately I don't know what to DO with myself. I seem so unfocused and scattered and, well, trapped.

I like to plan. However, I'm at this point in my life where the days of planning are kind of thrown under the bus. No longer are my kids asking, "What are we doing today, Mom?" They finally have their own friends and their own activities (again, I'm thankful.) However, I feel as if I still have to kind of "be around" just in case, for instance, the friends show up here, like they have just now. Which is great. I love it. But it's not like I can wake up in the morning and have a plan as to what I'm going to do. I kind of have to roll with it. And I'm not real good at rolling with it.

The holidays don't help much. I feel as if I'm going through  the motions every year, and this year is no exception. Put up the decorations. Make the cookies. Buy the gifts. Make sure everyone has the kind of Christmas they're supposed to have. If it weren't for my kids, I would care less about any of it. It makes me sad; it makes me lonely; it enhances my "grass is greener" mentality to new heights. And I don't know what to do about it.

I ran yesterday - farther than I've run since I began (4.27 miles.) During my run, I passed a family playing flag football at the park. Freakin' Norman Rockwell game of flag football. Whatever. While walking the dog last night, I passed a house and heard laughter. The front door was open and there were a bunch of people inside playing charades or Pictionary or something fun like that. Obviously, I have a sincere problem with assuming that everyone out there is having a better time than I am. I mean, right now that wouldn't be too hard to accomplish, but overall, yes, I have a problem. I think it's just exacerbated by the fact that most of my fun in the past has been coordinated activities with my kids. Now those are few and far between, and I haven't exactly found my sea legs in the waters of pre-empty nestedness.

Sigh. The Christmas decorations aren't going to unpack themselves so I'd better get back to it. How to fix this dilemma I'm not entirely sure. Buck up, quit whining, be thankful for what I have, find a new hobby, join a club... I don't know. Right now I think I'll just wrap up in a blanket and see if there's any Rum Chata left.

1 comment:

  1. Ames, we seriously need to get together. I'm in the same spot.


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