The other night after a particularly difficult day with a 4 year old and a 3 month old something occurred to me. My baby for some reason refused to go to sleep and I was exhausted. After the "crying it out" wasn't working and it was weighing on my nerves (it had only been a minute) I sprang out of bed to get her. My husband, who I am sure was scared to ask said, "what can I do to help you?" To which I replied, "I don't need your help, I want to go run away, smoke a joint, drink a beer and drive around in a camaro with a t-top and forget I have any responsiblity." Then I stormed downstairs baby in arms. As I reached the final step, I looked at my baby who gave me her best toothless grin. "Yes, little girl, your mama is irrational at times, I would be smiling too if I were you." I can only imagine what my husband must have been thinking, but he chose to stay in bed...he is smart man.
As I looked at my little blessing from above, I thought, "what is wrong with me?" I mean even back in the day, I didn't smoke pot and beer was never my thing. Then it came to me. I think I am having a mid-life crisis. Now mind you I think you can have several mini mid-life crisis'. I think I have had one every year since I turned 35 right around my birthday. Every September I get this weird feeling of doom that lasts until Halloween (which is my birthday) then it passes and I get on with it. But this year, I turned 40....this could be the BIG ONE!!!
According to a google definiton, crisis means and unstable situation of extreme danger or difficulty. A crucial stage or turning point in the course of something. Well, I'm not in danger, but I can be a little "unstable" and turning 40 could be a crucial stage. All this makes me have my own defintion. A mid-life crisis to me is realizing in your 40's you will never be what you wanted to be in your 20's.
By now in life I was supposed to be an awesome journalist. Risking my life to get the story and bring it to the public. Then after I got tired of that I would retire to write several novels. I would spend time traveling to beautiful places to seek inspiration to write my next masterpiece. Of course back then, that would probably involved some sort of tawdry romance novel. You know the kind where the picture on the cover is Fabio holding on to the a girl thats dress is falling off and hair flowing in the breeze. Pathetic, I know. Thank God, I have matured on some level.
To top it all off we got our taxes from the accountant this week. When my husband asked me to sign it there it was the blank spot for my signature right next to my title...HOUSEWIFE!!!!! I wanted to cry right then. The funny thing is, I'm not unhappy with where I am. It just isn't what I had planned. When you are changing diapers and being puked on most days, it makes you question your purpose. Who am I? Or better yet, Who WAS I? It's like a line from my favorite George Michael song, Freedom. "theres someone I forgot to be". I think this year, I am going to make it about finding purpose and passion again. I mean my purpose is to be a mom, I know that. But that has to be room for me to find passion about something I love again right? Maybe just re-invent myself a little. I mean how many times has Madonna done it?