Do you ever have one of those days where you just want to curl up with a nice binge-sized portion of Vosges bacon chocolate and cry like the babies that you birthed?
No? Well, you and I have nothing in common.
There is absolutely nothing wrong with my life; there is plenty that is right, but today was one of those days when I really just wanted to be the baby. I wanted to be held and cradled and fawned over– and to have my every need met without having to utter a single intelligible syllable. I don’t know if this makes me immature or just “maxed out” as my friend Krista would say. There have been several occasions when I have been too busy to sit still, and those missed opportunities are starting to add up inside of me. And, when I start craving decadent combinations of smoked pork and “haut” chocolate, I know that it’s time for me to plop down on my bed, sit still no matter how much it makes my skin crawl, and let whatever happens happen. If I cry, or fall asleep, or pick my nose, it dosen’t matter. I just need to stop. To breathe. To give myself a chance to take in all of my life. Because, the facts are that just because I act like a baby, I am not, in fact, the baby. I had my chance about 37 years ago, and the moment has passed for me to be the person who gets to ride in the Ergo and let my limbs flop around while someone else hoists me around town. My little people don’t really care that I am doing a crappy job taking care of myself and taking some time to be still, nor should they care. It’s not my turn; it’s theirs.
Deep breaths. Time to be still. If it doesn’t work, then I can order some exotic chocolates, but I will give a moment of peace and quiet a chance.