Paradise Lost in Longing

Parenthood brings the mixture consisting of both good and bad. Over the last year I have allowed certain times where I wallow in the life I once had. The carefree nature consisting of a wild Friday night, a Saturday spent recovering, and a Sunday filled with fantasy vacations. I could spend an entire day planning a trip to Paris knowing I would never actually go there. Parenthood has created a longing.

 

1. Longing for days where these were the only bottles I worried about keeping stocked in my house:

 

Bottle 1

2. Longing for a time where I didn’t actually have things to do. Laziness. A longing choice to choose laziness. Laying around for entire weekends without showering, without putting on fresh clothes, without having to cater to needs.

3. Longing for choosing loud uninhibited sex where ever we were; in the house, or in the car, or pretty much where ever we wanted. I miss the naked ambition. The option to be naked, walk around naked, or lay naked where ever I wanted.

4. Longing to have a social life outside the house. Weekends were once filled with anticipation which always held the promise of fun. Staying up till 3 or 4 a.m. Meeting up with friends, having cocktails, talking about relationships. Pretty much the lives of my Sex in the City girls before Charlotte and Miranda had babies. I didn’t have the fancy shoes, but still I had the opportunity to go out and be with the girls.

5. Sleep. I used to not sleep. I now constantly crave sleep. I can’t get enough sleep. I long for the days where if I wanted a nap, it was a possibility. It wasn’t disturbed by the sound of a cry or the need to cook a meal.

6. Longing to not have to cook three squares in a day. To not be the mess hall where every bit of food is scrutinized as to what am I putting in his body. Will he get Cancer from ingesting too much fake sugar substitute? Is the fresh produce we bought on Saturday moldy by Wednesday? Why does he only want chicken? Is the chicken I made full of hormones?

7. The longing where my main worry was only about money. Now, being an anxious over analyzer all I do is worry. I worry about him facing cyber bulling and real bullying when he goes to school (he is only 15 months old.) I worry about how much cat food is ingested before it creates an intestinal problem (he loves cat food, I can fix a feast and he will still try to grab for the cat food after eating.) The first eight months, I worried he would suffocate. I constantly checked to make sure his chest was moving up and down. I finally let that one go. Still the old worries are always replaced by new worries. Always worrying for and about him.

8. Longing for entertainment. I don’t watch any television now, with the exception of “Super Why” (his favorite.) I will finally have finished my first grown up book since he was born this week.

Marie Antoinette

Reading is my favorite escape. I miss the Sunday where Netflix was never turned off and my recommendations weren’t cartoons. Instead, they were grown up dramas and documentaries.

After I am done longing, I look around. I look at him and none of this shit matters. Not one single ounce of it has any substantial bearing. I was a selfish drunk once upon a time. My life had no meaning, no real purpose. It was never a paradise. The paradise was gained when I met him. When I come home and a little boy is so happy to see his mom. When he smiles because she always gives him a cookie and grapes. When he laughs because she makes the funny voices and reads “Goodnight Moon” every night.

The longing is always subdued because innocence exists again. Childhood is a do over and since he came into my life, I discover a paradise every day. It is spent in every minute as I watch him grow, smile, laugh, and turn into his own person.

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