On becoming a parent and maintaining some semblance of myself

Look at this brittle husk of wood. This time ravaged, sun bleached, paint peeling, grip tape damaged, poor aged plank of wood.

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Like many other folk, I had a life before children. I used to do all sorts of stuff, sometimes really fun stuff. This ‘fun’ stuff is now logged as surplus to requirement most of the time. If I can fit it in around answering ten billion questions about frog reproduction, or dishes, vacuuming, work, washing, washing, WASHING, then kudos for me. If, said ‘fun’ is had, I never really have it guilt free, without wondering if I put the recycling out, or if the school bags are packed. 

(In case you didn’t notice the full extent of its degradation, here it is again.

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Heartbreaking isn’t it. Look at the rust!

I suspect I am coming across as sounding a little whiney. I don’t mean for this. I utterly adore my children, they are two wonderful and perfect creatures, and I am constantly surprised and humbled by them. 

Aside from this, I do crave my old self sometimes. The self that could just wander out of the house with a good friend and a surfboard and not return for two days. Or the self that could sit and think uninterrupted for half an hour, and then go on to read an entire chapter in a book.

Ahh well, we humans would be an entirely different creature with out change and evolution. Whether we would be better or worse who could say. All I can say right now, is that I am ready to reintroduce my past self to my present. Try be a little more proactive, and achievey – (not a word, but again, for the sake of the context.) Ready for a bit more interactivity and action. (Although, more than likely, I will regress and become even more of a hermit, lets hope not though…)

 

.m.

 

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