11:22 a.m. - 2007-07-16
reversion therapy or reviviscense
In the past couple of weeks, I was asked about a perceived desire to return to life in my twenties, as though that was a bad thing. Two separate people felt compelled to point out to me that life in one's early twenties was unpleasant. Given who it was coming from, I agree. Their lives sucked when they were in their twenties. Mine, however, did not. So, for their sake, I put down in words what I miss about that time of my life.
I miss having the tight network of female friends who I could visit on a whim or at a moment's notice.
I miss going dancing at a bar with or without friends and meeting new people who might become friends with no worries about my reputation.
I miss a budget whose only limit was based on how many hours I put in at work.
I miss having a boyfriend who found me more interesting than anything (excepting college football) and didn't have little things like home maintenance as a distraction from talking to me.
I miss hanging out with like-minded couples and singles on a whim to talk and eat and drink and laugh.
I miss traveling to visit friends with NMH for a weekend of socialization to see our far-flung friends.
These are things that are MUCH MUCH harder to pull off when you have two, albeit adorable, children. Human offspring, alas, are not like cats. They are, in fact, more high maintenance than *dogs*. In order to go on trips, you either have to pack them and the myriad of stuff they require to keep out of you hair OR you must leave them with a responsible adult.
Seriously, parenthood is work. Time consuming, sometimes tedious, often repetitious, generally frustrating, always-on-call work. Rewarding, yes, but it is akin to being a corporate lawyer... only without the fabulous income.
When I sit around talking with my fellow mothers-of-small-children, missing college and the post-college life comes up--regularly--especially if it has been a rough week. We miss the relative irresponsibility of it all. And while we know that one day our adorable children will be old enough to fend for themselves, there are days when ten or fifteen years past seems much closer than ten or fifteen years future.
I would not go back--the good old days weren't that good. But society is trying to tell me I need to give up all of those things--the road trips, the dancing--and replace them with people who live in my neighborhood. Sorry, I don't ditch my friends to make society happy. I don't quit dancing or doing plays to make society happy. Society may suck my socks.
I thought NMH wanted me to play by society's rules. Turns out, he just wanted his neck to stop hurting. He married me because he loved the girl who would plan, on Thursday, a trip for Saturday to go hang out with cool people. He married me because he likes dancing--both as spectator and participant. He married me because we care about the same things--including, nay, especially each other's happiness. If I had thought marrying him would make me miserable, I would have called it off. I like to think the reverse would be true--especially since I gave him three or four chances to back out....
Society might frown on the way I play my life. Society can suck my socks. I will behave in the way that brings me maximum joy without hurting others. Disapproval and hurt are not the same thing. Disapprove all you want--I will survive. But if you want to get together to drink and talk and dance and revel in innuendo--I'm your girl! Even if I do have two kids and a house in the suburbs....
OK, Preachy Peggey is going back on sabbatical. We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming of road trip reports and drama updates....
