Oh blogger. I only turn to you in times of need.

Years from now, my children will (may) look back on these writings and think
"wtf Ma, did we ever DO anything??? Didnt you ever write about the good days?"
Assume the days are good.
I only write when they are bad.

Mommy was so Morose.

Here's what I miss:

I miss walking. I miss the feeling of striding so long that I felt like I might break into a run because my walk wasn't fast enough. I miss the feeling of my heels hitting the ground, my toes springing up, my arms pumping...swinging to Suite Judy Blue Eyes, a song no one before or after me ever considered a fitness song. I miss the feeling of being winded, of my abdomen tightening. I miss coming home happy, sweaty and just a bit frenetic.
Water water everywhere yet nary a walk around it.

I miss sleeping late. I miss sleeping. I miss the feeling of down duvets covered in cotton, windows open to the freezing cold, warm under blankets. Teeth-aching cold when feet hit the bare wood floor in the morning. I miss rolling over and star-fishing, feet hanging over the bottom of the bed. I miss cocoons of pillows. I miss sleeping alone, I miss sleeping as if I didnt have an ear open hoping my children were breathing in bed. Were safe. Were whole. Healthy.

I miss feeling pretty. Belted sweaters, knee boots. Different coats not just for seasons but days within seasons. Trenches, fleeces, cardigans. Colors besides gray and black. Vintage things, wools in patterns and colors unexpected but workable. Handbags. I miss red brocade David Meister asian inspired hand sewn dresses. I miss glossy hair, moisturized skin. I miss black flat front Martin Pants from Banana Republic. I miss being able to take off my sweater, my jacket, and not feeling ashamed. Uncomfortable. I miss turning heads.

I miss feeling a sense of accomplishment. I miss being buoyed up. I miss my old neighbors. I miss my friends, some close some far. I miss a lot of "what ifs". I miss the days of my imagination - beach days, romantic days, days spent with friends.

I miss sitting on the couch with Heather, watching bad tv. Starving b/c her anorexia left her with nothing in her house but babyfood and diet coke.

I miss my old apartment. My lemon yellow furniture, now repurposed into my son's bureau and my daughters dresser. I miss reading a book until 5am, then walking in the cold snap of morning to the train, seeking out another page. Going to the library taking out entire series of books just so I could read them in sequence.

I miss the security of only 10 months ago. When I thought the people I was close too would stay close and the people I pushed far were truly well rid of.

I wish for a lot of things.
Never have I had so much and so little.
It's like going backwards.
Learning a lesson I thought I learned long ago.
Replying a tape. A discarded cassette that you were sure would never be played again.

When will my mind shut up?
When will I look around and say tomorrow is now, and live it.

But I dont miss freedom. I dont miss my life before my family now. I have said it before and I say it now.
I used to wonder, at night, why god gave me the capacity to love if he didnt intend for me to use it. And then one day, they came.
I love my husband. My children. More so then I imagine. I might even love me too - although to be fair, I dont like me as much as I did. Tripped on yer own pride, eh? Ahoist on yer own petard?

I was meant to lead this life. My children were meant for me, thank you for the gift; and I was meant for them, "thanks a lot" they'll think "for the curse".
Someday I'll write again about all that's beautiful in my days, but for now, in the dark, radiator groaning, eyes blurry, head aching, wondering exactly who will wake up first in this game of sleepless house chicken, I feel like its an endless swim upstream..

Tomorrow I will smim. And the next day, and they day after.
But really, oh how I wish for sleep. Not eternal. Just 7 hours.