Do you ever think about, daydream perhaps, about an alternative universe where everything you ever did was a direct result of good decisions and resulted directly in positive outcomes?
I'm talking about being fulfilled because you know that you've never made a mistake, and therefore have "arrived" at a very beautiful place in life.
It isn't real, this place (or your place, either). Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but none of us live that fantasized existence of perfection. We dream about it sure, but dreams only take us so far. They are lacking the spontaneity of improvisation when we find our selves up "Crap Lake" (most likely due to our own mistakes-but quite as probably due to unforseeable, unfortunate events beyond our control). Either way, there we find ourselves, and we are grumpy at this point, bewildered at how a simply beautiful, impeccable day, had gone so bleak-so quickly.
But then it happens, we make a change. We decide to laugh in the face of this disastrous circumstance and we succeed. We turn the grumpy mood of our child into a game of hysterics as we go on pretending to bump our heads into the wall over and over for the shear joy of watching their distress disappear. We are good people and parents and we want the very best for our children. We might not always live in the ideal land of sweet talk and lively conversation, but when we do get a glimpse of that Heaven, we dwell there- cherishing every last second!
I find myself here today. In solitude, seeking a distraction from the room I desperately need to organize and the bathroom longing to be scoured. I need escape, I need levity, I want FREEDOM. So, I come here. I seek solace in the words I imagine give others comfort. And perhaps I comfort myself with the knowledge that I am not alone in wanting to come away from my real life, to escape the monotony of sleep deprivation and melt-down wails and cries, and be someone assured and comforted by an idealized existence. Maybe some people really are "living the dream," but it seems more like I'm living to dream at this point. I know this is only a season, kids only stay small for so long, and that on the horizon I am there, looking back wondering where all that time had gone.
Someday, I'll look back and think to myself that I wish I could have back one moment, one day, when the kids were so little and we had nothing to do but sit around and take baths and play imaginary games. Someday. Far, far away.
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