Year of me.

Seeing as I’m a mother and there’s really no ‘me’ anymore, here’s what I’m thinking…

As of a couple weeks ago, when Bebe essentially weaned herself, thereby letting my body free into the universe where no one depends on it directly for sustenance, whether in utero or by breast… it marks the first time in four years I’m not trying to get pregnant, pregnant, or breastfeeding.

And though, I have to admit, a part of me is tempted to continue through to the next stop on the child train, I also think I’ll be a better mother if I give myself a break. Some breathing room. Some sleeping space. Some time to wear bras that are kinda pretty.

So I’m declaring Year of Me. Like I said… that’s pretty much a misnomer, but here’s what I’m thinking: I’m going to use the time to perhaps grow back a few of the lost brain cells my kids have eaten and learn a few new things. Do some cranial workouts. Explore the stuff I used to love before I home-made instant-and-forever all-encompassing loves.

Also, in about four months, I turn 30.

I’m all at once apathetic and squeamish. I don’t care about dates but I do care about milestones. I’ve already got a lot under my belt but I feel like there’s something memorable I should do to mark the new decade. It feels young and old. It feels tired and energized. It feels pretty and spent.

And, no, I’m not into skydiving.






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