Twenty years ago when I was married, raising my brood, and working; my greatest fantasy was to get off work and do...whatever the hell I wanted. Except what I had to do, which was pick up brood, race home, start dinner and baths, help with homework, clean house, to be further compounded by all that wifey shit.
Fast forward to yesterday eve, (when my life has finally reached the pinnacle of said fantasy) when I promptly got off work....went grocery shopping, walked my dog, and spent the rest of the evening on the couch drinking dinner while watching old "Cheaters" episodes.
Oh the fucking fabulosity.
Though disciplined enough to participate in fair amounts of happy houring, a girl does need to go home and feather the nest every now and again. And the freedom of it all is just so goddamn glorious (really, it is) - but, sometimes I have found the situation to be a bit daunting.
Well 'cause, for most of my adult life, I've been someone's mother or wife. It's a bit of a shock when one discovers how difficult it is to function when not buckling under your children's constant needs or supervision. Just who am I without my relentless to do list and grocery runs, parent-teacher conferences and ballet recitals; and minding the every small detail of guiding someone else's life? For the first few months, and sometimes even now, I feel a bit...lost.
Floundering. With waay too much time on my hands. Time spent texting offspring who won't text back. Willfully engaging in mild to moderate dating drama. Spooning uncomfortably with the family pooch. Late night ordering from cheesy infomercials.
Is this the empty nest bullshit they speak of?
