When the husband and I started trying to have children together, everything else kind of fell to the wayside. My focus was trying to get pregnant and then trying to stay pregnant. Once I had the Monster Toddler, my focus shifted to raising her. When I became pregnant again, it was all about her and trying to stay pregnant. Now, my energy is mostly used in trying to survive 2 small children on a tiny amount of sleep. The Hellion hasn't needed me constantly over her shoulder in a few years now and in the next few years the younger ones will start school, make friends and I won't be the center of their worlds either.
I'm not complaining. It's good for them and it's good for me. Or it would be if I hadn't been so focused on them for so many years before they were even born. As they get older, I have more time for myself, more time to do the things I really enjoy doing. The problem? I don't even know what those things are anymore.
I know people who kayak. Others who love seeing Broadway plays. My mom is obsessed with trivia.
The husband for example: He enjoys video games. He likes watching baseball. He's give his left testicle to see the a Red Sox's game at Fenway Park. What would I give my metaphorical testicle for? I can't come up with anything.
I read a lot. It's enjoyable and it passes the time, but it isn't giving me that fulfilling feeling I'm lacking. I watch a lot of movies. It's the same as reading. I cook. Even though I'm pretty good at it, it's more about my family not starving than about pleasure.
I used to go to used book sales. That was kind of fun but I don't really need any more books. The house is full of books I'm going to ready someday and if I buy any more the husband may leave me.
I used to go to the bar a lot. It's nice to go out and have a couple drinks, but I'm too old and tired to make it a habit. Two weeks ago, we were home by midnight and I was hung over for the Demon Baby's morning feeding. Sucked the fun right out of that night.
When I was younger I enjoyed horseback riding, backpacking and ice skating. I have no desire to ever do those things again. I lost interest in anything outdoorsy while I was still in high school.
Poetry readings sound like some sort of torture. Same with museums. And plays. Apparently I'm adverse to anything cultural. That's sad.
I tried writing fiction. It seemed more like work than fun. When I read back the novel I wrote, it was mind-numbingly boring. I tried again about a year later. Wrote a whole other novel. It was worse. I'm not at all creative. Obviously that's a problem if you want to be a writer. I tried needlepoint and that rug hooking thing. I can do it, I just didn't like it very much. I dread the day the kids drag me to one of those paint your own pottery places. And the thought of scrapbooking makes me throw up a little in my mouth.
So nothing outdoorsy, cultural or creative. Nothing that leaves me incapable of taking care of the kids or that sucks up the tiny amount of space we have here at home. I also don't like crowds and I suck at gambling. And garage sales are depressing and usually a little dirty.
I would love to travel, but can't until the children are much older. The husband and I plan on taking some long weekend trips in the next couple of years, but we can't do anything major until the youngest child is old enough to be left home alone. Or until my parents or my in-laws retire and are willing to take the kids for at least a week at a time.
I like having parties, but have no one to invite to those parties. Most of my friends have moved away. Those that remain have their own spouses, kids and interests to find time for. Or are still fun and single and don't understand that it's mean to flake out on someone who had to find a babysitter. I lost touch with most people while dealing with my miscarriages. Trying to reconnect is hard. If it wasn't for Facebook I would go for weeks without talking to anyone my own age other than the husband.
This is sad. I really should have interests. No wonder I could never figure out what I wanted to do when I grow up. I can't even find a hobby. What's your passion? Maybe I can borrow it.
I'm not complaining. It's good for them and it's good for me. Or it would be if I hadn't been so focused on them for so many years before they were even born. As they get older, I have more time for myself, more time to do the things I really enjoy doing. The problem? I don't even know what those things are anymore.
I know people who kayak. Others who love seeing Broadway plays. My mom is obsessed with trivia.
The husband for example: He enjoys video games. He likes watching baseball. He's give his left testicle to see the a Red Sox's game at Fenway Park. What would I give my metaphorical testicle for? I can't come up with anything.
I read a lot. It's enjoyable and it passes the time, but it isn't giving me that fulfilling feeling I'm lacking. I watch a lot of movies. It's the same as reading. I cook. Even though I'm pretty good at it, it's more about my family not starving than about pleasure.
I used to go to used book sales. That was kind of fun but I don't really need any more books. The house is full of books I'm going to ready someday and if I buy any more the husband may leave me.
I used to go to the bar a lot. It's nice to go out and have a couple drinks, but I'm too old and tired to make it a habit. Two weeks ago, we were home by midnight and I was hung over for the Demon Baby's morning feeding. Sucked the fun right out of that night.
When I was younger I enjoyed horseback riding, backpacking and ice skating. I have no desire to ever do those things again. I lost interest in anything outdoorsy while I was still in high school.
Poetry readings sound like some sort of torture. Same with museums. And plays. Apparently I'm adverse to anything cultural. That's sad.
I tried writing fiction. It seemed more like work than fun. When I read back the novel I wrote, it was mind-numbingly boring. I tried again about a year later. Wrote a whole other novel. It was worse. I'm not at all creative. Obviously that's a problem if you want to be a writer. I tried needlepoint and that rug hooking thing. I can do it, I just didn't like it very much. I dread the day the kids drag me to one of those paint your own pottery places. And the thought of scrapbooking makes me throw up a little in my mouth.
So nothing outdoorsy, cultural or creative. Nothing that leaves me incapable of taking care of the kids or that sucks up the tiny amount of space we have here at home. I also don't like crowds and I suck at gambling. And garage sales are depressing and usually a little dirty.
I would love to travel, but can't until the children are much older. The husband and I plan on taking some long weekend trips in the next couple of years, but we can't do anything major until the youngest child is old enough to be left home alone. Or until my parents or my in-laws retire and are willing to take the kids for at least a week at a time.
I like having parties, but have no one to invite to those parties. Most of my friends have moved away. Those that remain have their own spouses, kids and interests to find time for. Or are still fun and single and don't understand that it's mean to flake out on someone who had to find a babysitter. I lost touch with most people while dealing with my miscarriages. Trying to reconnect is hard. If it wasn't for Facebook I would go for weeks without talking to anyone my own age other than the husband.
This is sad. I really should have interests. No wonder I could never figure out what I wanted to do when I grow up. I can't even find a hobby. What's your passion? Maybe I can borrow it.