Back in time

I feel like time is moving like a G6. Or flying like a G6. I can't keep up these days. There's this guy that I sit close to at work who is probably, let's say, 22. He listens to music while he works and we make jokes that he's listening to Jay-Z. And I think, isn't Jay-Z for the old folks like me? I think nowadays, Far East Movements, and whipping your hair back and forth are way cooler. I could be wrong on that last one.

So I'm attempting to study after putting the banana to bed. But by the time I'm ready to sit down and crack open the books, it's already 9:30 and I'd rather be sleeping. This has become my life as of late. This makes me want to turn the clocks back to those days when I would come home from work and eat a quick bite to race to get ready to go out, all fresh and new. You know that feeling when you were on top of the world? Young and spry and full of life? I listened to a friend of mine describe her most recent Saturday night where she hung out at a music studio, drank wine and sang music with boys and guitars. The night unfolded to drunk friends and ridiculousness. I told her I felt like an outsider listening to her story, like "tell me more" with my face pressed up against the glass. Those days are so shiny in my mind. Big hoop earrings and ridiculous nights with wine.

Can you see up my nose?

I can't imagine going back there...back in time. Or maybe I can. I think that maybe I would appreciate it more. Back then, I used to wonder if  there was "more to life than this", those late nights, dancing, dressing to impress. And there certainly was. There most definitely was more to that. There is being a mom and using every last corner and curve of your heart to love that little being that laughs and giggles at the stupid things you do.

But I still wish that once in a while, Victor and I could get out and drink some wine and enjoy each other out of the confines of our four walls x 2. Thing is, I find it so hard to make the effort. And not just with Victor but even any late night event with friends just seems too much. And then I fear the hangover the next day...that lazy, dull feeling. How can I ever make B laugh or clean up that last thrown spaghetti strand off the floor with patience if I have a pounding headache? It's tough, this mom thing. Worn out from work and wanting to unwind yet unwinding means laying on the couch for a measly five minutes before cracking open a book or emptying the dishwasher. Most times, unwinding means singing and signing itsy bitsy spider and head and shoulders, knees and toes.

I know that other parents do it - have nights out once a week or some crazy thing like that. I just can't see how. But I wish for the desire to just do it. And I wish I may, I wish I might.