I woke up this morning six weeks postpartum with two children under the age of two and a can-do attitude.
Today was the day that I was going to revisit my morning walks down to the beach. Sure it took me a little while longer than usual, but finally everyone was dressed, fed, and ready to go. It was business as usual as I headed down the hill. I saw parents dropping their kids off at school and dogs taking their owners for walks. Then I heard the music.
Right where the road comes to a T was “ThAt house”, as Jake and I often referred to it. “You know, THAT house with THE couple”. As I stopped dead in my tracks I stared for way too long while the envy hit me like a ton of bricks. There was “THAT woman”, riding a stationary bike in the garage while blasting some sort of Talking Heads techno mix. I could see the ridges in her muscular chest, strong biceps, and this air of no placeto be; nothing pressing to do.
After embarrassingly making eye contact, I pulled up my “Tummy Control” pants, sucked in my gut a little bit more for good measure, and continued on my walk. I couldn’t help but imagine that Jake and I were living in this parallel universe to her and her husband. So many times we would walk by to see them coming home from a bike ride or a morning surf, heading out for a run, or dressed up to go out to dinner and some live music. All the things Jake and I would have been doing if we hadn’t had children.
The garage was perfectly organized with all of their gear. Snowboards, surfboards, camping equipment, golf clubs, tennis rackets, and of course rolling suitcases. I could see them holding hands as they summited Machu Pichu, or jumping into the crystal green Indian Ocean from a chartered surf trip. The Talking Heads techno remix was the perfect soundtrack to the vignette of images that my imagination created for “THAT couple”. That would have been me and Jake had we not had children.
In my garage you will find, strollers, breast pumps, maternity jeans, bouncy chairs, diapers,and spit rags. All of these items obstructing the path to my surfboards. We haven’t been to the Belly Up Tavern in months. We can’t even stay up past 10 PM. And, oh, how I long for a wine induced living room dance party!
“Trash truck!!!!!” I heard Anderson scream from the stroller and felt him bounce around in excitement. I pulled my obnoxious stroller over to the side of the road and bent down. As we talked about all the parts of the truck and imitated all the impressive sounds it made I couldn’t help myself.
My eyes surfed his blonde locks of hair. I snowboarding off the tips of his long eyelashes and summited the peaks of his pouty lips. Slowly the Talking Heads techno remix faded into the background as did the parallel universe.
Silly Johanna, it’s not a parallel universe it’s simply your past. I already lived that childless life. I HAD jumped off of chartered boats on surf trips, snowboarded, summit mountains, skydived, and so much more! And now I was lucky enough to do it all over again with some other amazing human beings, my children.
It is so easy to take things for granted;to complain about how hard it is being a parent; that your life is not “your own” anymore….blah blah blah! Well I call bullshit!
Last summer I was focused on getting my surf mojo back. This summer I am getting my mama mojo back. With one child I got the mama mojo in line real quick. I got the sleeping sorted out, the surfing dialed in, and the beach days?…well I was a pro! And now that I have two under two I guess I’ll just have to add a little bit of some Talking Heads techno remix to my universe.
mamasgonesurfing 