Friday night R and I had plans to go to dinner and then out to a bar with a group of his co workers. I was psyched up for it all week, but by the time Friday night rolled around, I felt as though my butt was glued to the spot upon which it landed after work. Between the exhaustion and the various pains, the thought of waiting an hour for a resturant that did not take reservations and then going to a bar where everyone else would drink scorpion bowls while I sipped pineapple juice seemed less than fun. R was less than thrilled with calling to cancel for the umpteenth time and I felt so bad. I'd had these visions of myself as super cool mom, still at the bars until the 9th month. Not so. He got off the phone and I burst into tears. I swing so wildy between unabashed, over the top, jumping up and down excitement and crying jags that are triggered with little provocation (for instance, I sobbed for about five minutes because R had asked to go to the gym on Sat and I did not make time for it). But Fri night, I was crying for all of the changes, for the different people we are going to be, both individually and as a couple. I was crying for this life I feel like we are leaving behind.
Our new life will be amazing, I know. But so was our old life. We took expensive and exotic trips. We went out whenever we felt like it. We parked ourselves on the couch for entire weekends, ordering in dinner so we could watch all of the Star Wars episodes. It was all about us and what we wanted. Every old song that comes on the radio reminds me of something. "Stir It Up" came on the other day as I was driving home from yoga and I could have been 16 again, on a boat in Costa Rica drinking a Pina Colada and headed out to a deserted island for a day trip we took that summer. I remember lying on the front of the boat on the trampoline seats, the salt water spraying my face and the sun on my skin. I remember other parts of that summer, too. Throwing parties when my parents were out of town (sorry Dad) and meeting cute boys. Anything could have happened that summer.
As I was driving it occurred to me that kind of selfishness, the lazy days where I had nothing to think of but myself were long gone. Okay, so technically I have been piling on responsibilities slowly since college graduation. But there is no bigger responsibilty than parenthood. It will no longer me about me and my needs when I want to do something and how. It will all be about her now. The other day I was in line behind two girls I knew to be freshmen in college, no more than 18 and they were talking about a keg party they had attended the night before. I had a moment where I was shocked. They were 18! And they were speakign of drinking! Isn't the legal age for drinking in the US 21? And then I knew my time was up. I am going to be 30 next year and whether I like it or not, I am a grown up now.