Okay, okay, I know I still have plenty of time to add to this list, but today after Prince Walls starting shrieking near-obscenities that mirrored my curses from within our giant SUV in the Sainsbury’s parking lot, it dawned on me that I need to understand myself for no other reason than to edit my impulses. Clever, no?, wanting to sculpt the essence of “mom” that I want for my child.
(Maybe in 5 years I’ll find that desire insane.)
Anyhow. Here are some things I’ve come to understand about myself in the past ~20 months:
- My patience is selective. The V-Tech truck song can play over and over for 30 minutes without phasing me, but two unsuccessful passes through the parent-child parking area at the grocery store? Ka-BOOM!
- I like my space. I’ll start to hyperventilate if there are more than 3 people in a shopping aisle with me. I tense up if someone moves toward me in a queue in any kind of way that might indicate they’re trying to slip in front of me simply because there’s a tiny gap for me to breathe into. I throw elbows if needed.
- I’m kind of a country girl. As in, I detest street parking and really want a yard. See also previous point.
- I’m kind of a college town girl. I like to be surrounded by artsy and intellectual things. But see points 2 & 3 to understand why big cities don’t make the cut.
- Being surrounded by artsy and intellectual stuff makes me feel current. But I am terrible at taking advantage of such things when available.
- Home decorating is not my forte. I’d like to think I could be good at it if I could just have someone tell me what to do.
- I’m allergic to stress. Like tree pollen, stress can’t be avoided. And I’m a disgusting terrible person when I’m exposed to it.
- Solid sleep and exercise are my best stress busters. That’s why moving to a new country with a 6-month-old and a deployed husband was kind of a soul-suck. But we made it!
- I. Love. Food. And I hate the one word sentence thing, but I wanted it to be clear. I LOVE food. Delicious, yummy, tasty REAL food, prepared with care and properly enjoyed. Bliss.
- Except turnips. Just… yuck.
- My heart is the size of a 20-pound toddler. Who knew I was capable of so much love for something inedible? (I’m kidding, honey, I love you very much, too! And Plato. And Daisy. But you know what I mean.)
- I’m terrified of forgetting it all, pretty much as terrified as I am of accidentally running over a person with a car. Maybe more, hence the blogging and pictures and journals and things. I think I do them for myself, but sharing some of it with others makes the moments more real, in a way. You all are my backup drive. So thank you for that.
Please! Share any words of wisdom for 30-somethings in the comments below. I might find them handy some day when my life is completely different from now. Like, when my kid can tell me that he’s seeing me sneak those Ferrero Eggs when I refill my coffee.