Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Schizophrenic Living and Dreaming

It was really quiet. 

And, I, well, I was soaking wet.

That's what happens when you forget to bring clean towels from the laundry room and you've turned off the shower and you're exposed with no protection in sight, literally.

And I was cold.  And tired.  And then, crunch.  My toes smooshed a cheerio.  Perfect.

And then, looking in the mirror, I heard her voice.

"It's all normal...all of it...this schizophrenic life that is yours.  You can't imagine not being there for your kids' everything.  And then when you are, you just want to run away and start a new life in...I don't know...Zimbabwe.  And then you feel guilty because your Catholic, a mother, and trying to be all things to all people, always.  Knock that shit off.  It doesn't do anybody any good."

And then last night at a party, I heard his voice.

He was sharing his travels to Tuscany and his love for all things Italian.  I was hanging on to his every word and sharing that my dream is to one day get there.  "Then you will, if it's your dream.  No one can take that away from you."

So, my plan is to keep doing the towel folding, cheerio pouring, diaper changing, stroller pushing, "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" singing mama thing that one day, I'll find myself in Italy writing with a glass of something bubbly on a veranda overlooking the countryside.

Hopefully, I'll be in my 40's...I hear that's when life begins anyway and according to my mom, her 40's were her sexiest's hoping.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.