I usually hate having disclaimers on what I write, but I feel like I need to insert two here.
First, this post is not about fishing for love and affirmations from people. I have an embarrassment of riches when it comes to that.
Second, this is not about self-pity. I largely write as a cathartic exercise for myself. It always tickles me when people read what I write and then say what I have written resonates with them.
Today was a good day. I forced myself out of the house last night. I have been struggling to get out of the house lately. I make plans for Friday nights, which are tricky because Bekah has dance class. This typically means I have to find someone to drive her home. I am loathe to do this because all the other moms have their own children to drive home. I feel bad asking them to drive her home just so I can get out for a couple of hours. A recent generous gift of a used Toyota has given us more flexibility; Brian could, ostensibly, go get her after her dance class. I also hate that alternative because it means he has to pile the three kids into the van. Even more, it's about an hour after the process for bed has started.
All of this means that I make Friday night plans with the greatest of intentions. Then, as the week wears on, I move the plans from the definite to the maybe. Inevitably, other complications (sick children, comfy clothes, comfy couches) mean I definitely end up staying home.
This is not all bad. After years of staying awake into the wee hours of the morning, there is something new and healthy about staying home and being in bed by 10 o'clock. I am sleeping well these days, save an occasional trip to the bathroom or other odd wake-up.
At the same time, I am still mostly an extrovert. I say mostly because I chose to celebrate my 40th birthday in a very subdued way. I had a lovely trip to downtown Chicago with two close friends. No one was more surprised than I that I chose that over a big 40th birthday party.
I still love people in a very visceral way. I have been spending a lot of time trying to cultivate relationships with people. I love praying for people and encouraging people and listening to people. But as it turns out, I have been exhausted by people. Not in a bad way, mind you, but by the time Friday night rolls around, I have expended all of my psychic and emotional energy.
Last night's venture out among people was a great case study for me. I grudgingly asked another mom to bring Bekah home. When I didn't hear from her, I figured I was off the hook. I started to make my apologies to the friend who had invited me out. "Come for five minutes," she said. "Even if you're here for five minutes, it will still be worth it to see you." (Again, I recognize I have an embarrassment of riches in this department. This friend 100% meant it and I knew she did.)
In the past, once I was out, I was out. I just went with it and stayed until I closed the place down. Last night, as I was jogging into my friend's apartment (it's a long drive and I'm working hard to hydrate and I have had four kids, so yes, I was jogging), I decided that I would stay for an hour.
In that hour, I had an absolute blast. I got to catch up with some people, hear a hilarious story or two (which was only hilarious in last night's context--at church, there would be crickets and people clutching their pearls), get a world-class hug from my friend and have a nice drive on a pleasant evening.
I was home by like 9:30 and asleep by 10:00. It was, in short, the perfect evening.
The struggle I'm having today is one that I have long struggled with--I am not everyone's best friend. (Again, this is not about self-pity, this is me realizing I'm acting like a punk toddler.) The line that's been running through my head is based on a popular meme--"stop trying to make everyone happy, you're not chocolate."
This is where Facebook does what it is supposed to do, which is show highlights from everyone's lives. It's not a full and accurate portrayal of what people are feeling. It's not demonstrating everyone's insides--it's highlighting their outsides.
I have such a good time wherever I end up. It is easy for me to laugh and I like to make other people laugh. I do my best to make small talk with anyone and everyone. I know a little about a lot of things, most of which are not important to the vast majority of the world. Aside from placing second and third in trivia competitions, my proficiency in small talk is directly related to my obsession with unimportant minutiae.
Being a mom can be lonely, but I feel I've done a good job cultivating a community around me. The problem is, there are droughts with hanging out. It recently took three weeks to have a play date with a friend and her daughter. In the meantime, we had a fever that traveled through our house. It stopped me from getting out very much at all. I had to cancel a few dates.
And that's how I find myself, on a Saturday night, up past my bedtime, writing about how I'm feeling a little melancholy but also a little ridiculous. (And also having had an epiphany that being out for about an hour is absolutely okay. I can summon the energy to get off the couch for an hour, laugh, impress people with my useless trivia knowledge, and be in bed by 10. Cause, you know, I'm 40. Ain't no one expecting me to be wild anymore.)
