My life is my kids right now. I mean it belongs to them as much as it revolves around them. I feel I am not my own. Those quirks that used to identify me are buried down under the softening of my curves and simplicity of my daily vocabulary. Comfort and durability have become my #1 concern when I shop for new clothes. Stilettos and shorter skirts do not lend well to chasing a toddler through a store. The flimsy frocks that were my staple pre-kids would not be able to come out unscathed after being thrown in in the wash for the 5th time this week.
What happened to ME? Who am I? Whose am I? I have been having a hard time putting my finger on this rumbling inside of me. I lack definition in this season in my life. I am not the carefree, vivacious young woman I used to be. I have 3 little ones and a husband to take into account with every decision I make. Adventure awaits, but only after breakfast and before nap-time.
So I guess I’ll have to postpone that spontaneous drive to Reno for a little while. I know that this is just a season and seasons do change. I am holding onto and breathing in these precious moments I have with my babies while they are young. This time has already gone by too fast. I look back at my childhood, the golden years that established what family, faith and community looked like to me. I do not take lightly this season of pouring into them while they are not yet able to be self sufficient.
Yes it is hard. Yes I feel like I am going crazy 92% of the time. I have not got it figured out. But I am trying to find balance, trying to give my heart a voice. Doing things however small they are that give me life outside of my kids (and husband). I am taking stock of who I used to be and who I still need to be. What are those characteristics or areas that I have let go that I need to hold onto? What are those things that were so important to me before? Maybe those things were just for that season or maybe they need to be shelved for a later date when I have the capacity to pick them up again.
I am working hard to hold all of these truths in the forefront of my mind. While my co-sleeping daughter wakes me up to nurse for the 8th time tonight. When we eat quesadillas for the 3rd time this week because that is all the 2 year old will eat. When my desire for adventure must be filled by trips to the playground and Target. When the house is a wreck because the baby and the 4 year old demand undivided attention. I am a Mom, but I am also still me.