Lady of the house

I never aspired to be a wife. Certainly I wasn't one of those girls who had vivid dreams of a fancy wedding. I never contemplated a cathedral veil or a 12 piece orchestra. (Years later I'd be obsessed with these things)

 Never did I imagine a house with a white picket fence. Or any fence.  I wanted to live in an apartment in Nyc forever. 

 Kids weren't really on my radar. Sure, i found them cute. From afar. And babysitting certainly wasn't my bag. Hated it actually. Save for the homemade chocolate chip cookies the lady of the house made for me, I dreaded the job. I used to pray the kid would sleep. I died whenever I had to change a diaper. 

To avoid becoming a stay at home mom, I dated often. No way I was going to become a lame statistic. Friends were getting engaged and I dreaded each invite that arrived. A ruined Labor Day weekend. Another wedding over Fourth of July.  It was awful and I wasn't having any part of it. 

I lived and loved abroad.  A lot. I worked. I volunteered. And eventually I went back to school for my masters. I figured that when I did eventually have kids, at least if have a good degree. Perhaps that would make me more marketable post mat leave?

I worked my butt off all through mba and began to dream of my immenent six figure income. My mind was filled with holidays i would take.  Turkey, Morocco, India. Life would be glamourous.  Life would be grand. 

And then my boyfriend proposed. With an ice skating rink of a ring. I was shocked. I hardly knew what to say, so I went with "yes". And then for two years I questioned my decision. Who wanted to get married anyway. 

I graduated from school at the end of May and started my dream job right away.  A June 21 wedding followed.  

As I walked down that aisle in my cathedral length veil, I saw my dreams fade away.  And that 12 piece orchestra played on...

I felt the depression start to sink in and the ink hadn't yet dried

Now it's not that i didn't want to marry my husband. I just didn't want to marry him right then.   A few more years single would have worked for me. 

And as I predicted, my dreams started to evaporate.  Everyone around me was falling pregnant.  Talk of breast feeding, spoon feeding and diapers filled the air. With a bit of peer pressure and my quickly increasing age,  i decided a baby would be a welcome addition to my life as well. (I was 30)

Within 38 weeks I went from being "wife" to "mommy".  I was 31.  Gone was the girl who travelled everywhere. Gone was she who took courses whenever she could. Gone was the chick who ran to 6am hot yoga. Every. Single.  Day

And while I loved my daughter more than words could ever explain, I felt like I was losing me. I knew I was.  Gym classes. Swim classes. Music lessons. All for her. And she was 6 months old.  I shopped nonstop. For boots and skirts and dresses.  Again, only for her. 

As she grew more gorgeous i still looked pregnant. Or worse. 

My husband had began to workout feverishly.  He was addicted. To the gym. Certainly not to me. Or to what I'd become. Who had I become? More importantly, where did I go?

And his life carried on. All I carried was my baby and the groceries.  Every day. Every damn day. 

Actually his life did more than carry on. He flourished.  Each year or two he'd start a new job. Each job was better than the next.  He was climbing up the corporate ladder and I was ready to climb out the window.

From business meetings to work drinks and dinner, he was enjoying the good life. And I was living the housewife life...  Who would have thunk it?? 

 While I was and am so proud of his accomplishments it still saddens me not to have "work dinners" or drinks with friends from work. 

But today  my daughter is nearly ten. We've added an awesome animated boy to the mix.  He's loud and smart and handsome as hell.  These two kids rock my world. They also rule my world. And my days. And usually my nights too...

The youngest is 5 and I've yet to lose the baby weight. I cringe when someone asks if  I'm pregnant. 

 And we've recently moved countries and my husband started his biggest job yet. He's in charge of 400 people. 400 family's lives. Their well-being is in his hands. And he loves it. 

And me? I'm still left carrying groceries and often a kid. A very big kid. 

But I'm also buying  rain boots and sports bras.  Leggings and ice skates. Bike helmets and rollerblades. Uggs and umbrellas. 

Last week i was asked to buy deodorant.  And I cried.  But i digress. 

I've trolled the malls for back to school clothes. And backpacks.  And lunch bags.  That perfect first day outfit?!

But get this. Together with my girl, I've created a dinner menu for the month. We perused the food network and found tons of interesting meals she agreed to eat. I made a fabulous spread sheet. And to think I was kind of excited to use excel again?!  And a little shocked I still knew how. 

It's not all doom and gloom.  My biggest achievement lately is that my kids love to eat. Thai food, Indian, Mexican, sushi. They have wonderful palates and even better manners.  They make me proud at least 13 times a day. 

But I'd be lying if i said this is what I always wanted. My dream come true. A suburban housewife with hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of education in my pocket.  And no full time job in sight. No tailored suits and designer heels.  No nanny to watch the kids and clean up their mess. 

No. It's not what I wanted at all. Never. Ever. Not on any planet. But it's the life I've chosen. My path for now.  And truthfully I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.  

Breathe and drink water. Namaste

what it feels like to die

Not to be morose, but this week I'm learning what it feels like to die.  What's it's going to be like when I'm no longer here. No longer around. 

I'm not actually sick.  As a matter of fact, I'm feeling quite well. 

I haven't been given a terminal diagnosis or even a bad blood report.  Truthfully I've been eating nicely and working out a lot. 

But this week, I'm packing up my home of more than ten years and preparing for a move out of this country.  Leaving where I've lived for 14 years. 

It's a lot of work and I'm quite exhausted both mentally and physically.  There's a ton to do. Cancel NY times subscription.  Re-route our mail. Cancel gym memberships. Notify the doctors and the schools and the camps that we are moving this weekend.  Drivers license reports. Medical exams. Donation bins. Lots of stuff people need to accomplish before they move or die. 

But the worst part is the stuff I have to sort, and I have so much stuff.  Stuff I haven't touched in 10 years. From books to knitting needles, I'm packing up boxes with things I don't need.  Things I'll never need. Items I didn't require in the first place...

I did finally manage to finally donate all the clothes that currently don't fit me.  That would include my size 6 citizen jeans and all of my Theory suits.  Talk about depressing.  Like cleaning out the closet of a dead (and skinny) aunt. Awful. 

Most recently I've been disposing of things I don't want the movers to see.  Or touch.   Ever. 

I've been wrapping up things that are precious to me. The memories. The moments. My life. 

And then there was last night. A last minute impromptu "drink the house". A small gathering of close friends to come and drink our liquor and eat our pantry's remains.

Dare I say it felt like a shiva?

For my non Jewish friends, a family sits shiva after someone dies. It's a time to come together. To mourn. To celebrate. To eat yummy food. People cover the mirrors and sit on boxes. No one is comfortable as they discuss the departed.  Everyone reminisces. 

Last night at my home, we did just that. Old friends told stories. They ate tasty foods. We remembered what life was like when we moved here. There wasn't much music playing. Some were more upset than others. There were some tears. When everyone went home, I was left crying.

People joked that we should have told the new owners our friends came with the house. Our friends loved to party with us and we were alway keen to host.

But soon I'd be gone. No longer a fixture on my warm street. No longer the mom at the playground taking home gobs of kids. I wouldn't be a part of the book club I created. Someone else has taken over my business.  My favorite coffee shop will still be busy without my iced coffee orders daily.

I imagine people will miss me. They alway miss the departed. Friends will talk kindly about me. Hopefully. Just this morning i received a text saying that i'm a magical magnate with a unique ability to bring people together and get stuff for free... People keep telling me that TO will miss me.  

The memories will live on for a time, but people will move on. It's what people do. New friends will be made.  New furniture will fill my bedrooms and my living room.  Someone else's clothes will hang in my closet.

          New laughter will enter my home. And it won't be mine

I also noted what a big effort people made to say their goodbyes. Babysitters were hired. Food was brought over. One family bought us a complete and exquisite middle eastern Dinner. One friend made chicken wings. They were a hit. Someone wrote me a poem that I'll frame right away. Nearly everyone close to me managed to show up even briefly to say farewell.

But in life, it's hard not remember those who didn't come through. Those who opted to dine with other friends instead of hanging with us. It's okay. After all, we initially cancelled the evening and then rescheduled. But still i'll love them for always, as they've been here for me many times before.

         And so, without much work, I now know what it will feel like when I die. I know who loves me and I know exactly   what they think of me.  I'm not going to to lie, I'm a pretty lucky girl. The love is huge and real and and I can't wAit to see them all on the other side...(of the border)))