Living the dream

The other day, I was thinking about how at each age, I've thought that's the best age, or that every year is my best year so far (with two exceptions: I remember that being 16 wasn't so great; also, when I was 27 or 28, I had a pretty rough time, with being unemployed, the whole disaster that was my experience with DDG––when I look back at it frankly––the gluten thing, and the broken ankle).

But for real, this stage of life is the one in which I feel most like my "real" self.

I had pretty much one of the best childhoods imaginable, but I can't say that I ever really felt secure. My parents did a great job, but a sense of security was certainly lacking, and I always had the sense that everything could change at any time. So that wasn't great.

I certainly wasn't convinced when people said high school would be the best years of my life. If I hadn't been so reserved around grownups, I probably would have scoffed out loud. It was fun, but so not "me."

College, too, was a lot of fun, but also certainly not the best years of my life. I worked SO much. My friends and I did tons of fun stuff (oh, demolition derby sledding, how I miss you), and I liked going to classes, but the work hours to pay for it all. Whew. By the time graduation came around, I was ready. But also, I just felt like I was more ready to be a "real grownup" by then. I definitely never was into the whole party scene of college, either.

Next chapter, grad school. Again, I liked the classes. I made a lot of good friends. I met Jeff. Lots of fun, lots of work.

Moving to Madison was nice, but being unemployed was, oh my goodness, probably the most challenging thing for me, with my personality and background and love-to-work attitude.

But now! Yay! I'm pretty much living the dream. Jeff and I get along great and are still waiting for those fabled newlywed fights to happen. We have a nice house. I've got the copyediting job that I've wanted since I was in middle school, at least. And these kids! I had never imagined, or I should say, never dreamed about, having kids really, but it's pretty much the best thing ever.

Some days, I'm like, "Oh. My. It's still four hours until Jeff gets home. I do not want to feed this baby or clean up the food under the kitchen table or change a diaper or help anyone use the toilet or hug anyone or or or..." Sometimes the millions of needs weigh on me, and the house is suffocating, and it's too cold to go out, or one of them is sleeping...

But usually, I love it. Usually, I want to spend all my time with these guys, and then it's still not enough. Usually I don't mind the millions of needs and the fact that everything is way harder to do with kids and takes so much longer (like, oh, just getting into the car in the first place).

Usually, I'm glad at the end of the day that it's over (because it's tiring!), but I'm also so sad that they're getting so much bigger and older already. And I'm sad that sometimes even all the hours in the day we spend together aren't enough. This, right now, is for sure the best time, and this is my best self––taking care of kids and hanging out with Jeff at home and working in my extra hours and sometimes managing to go running all by myself, in the beautiful, beautiful silence that makes all the noise even more beautiful, too.