Forgetting me, all the time…
Ah, the good old days… or “when I was young,” as our grandparents would say. Those were the days when I always came first. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this young lady took all the time in the world to get ready, went out every Saturday, attended shows (front row, no less!!), and bought tons of clothes.
Yes, that Véro—she’s still there, buried deep inside; I know it. As she approaches her 34th birthday, she realizes just how much her princesses mean to her. Sometimes she feels like going out to a bar. (Read: take advantage of $1 beer on Saturdays) and not worry about Sunday morning. To go shopping just for herself. (As long as the girls are dressed!!) Now, my dream Saturday is to snuggle up with my family in front of a good movie, and then a TV show once the girls are in bed. I do go out for a drink sometimes, but always in moderation (no more throwing money out the window!!!) I choose shows based on Dad’s schedule and Grandma’s willingness to help us out. (This summer, she often took the girls during the week to help me out. Thanks, Mom!!!)
I also need to talk about my desire to take back control of my physical activities. On Sundays, any excuse is a good one to skip yoga (and a FREE class, no less!!!) and stay in bed. It’s been so long since I’ve put on my running shoes that they’ve forgotten their purpose in life.
So tell me, when does it happen? What’s the exact moment when we stop being women and become, for the most part, mothers? Even though I feel like I’m handling it all pretty well (don’t worry, I don’t spend my days crying!!), when does that moment come—that split second when our own needs are relegated to the back of our minds?
I’m trying to find a balance, to make the most of our little family moments, telling myself that putting too much pressure on myself won’t solve anything either. Little by little, I’ll add a challenge… and then in a couple of months, we’ll look back on it!!! (On the 1ster January—time to take stock!!!)