Resolved and Unresolved Issues
Like my new look? Blogger has new templates, finally, so I'm trying something new. I think I'll switch the color, though. Although I found out at the NY Stationery Show what the name of this color is-- pistachio. Pistachio is this year's pink. It's everywhere. So is the color combo of light blue and brown, which is all fine and dandy, but I wonder if all the brides who are currently picking it as their wedding colors are going to regret it ten years from now. I'm sure the 1960's avocado brides are.
There's nothing like being back at home to catapult you into reality. My house smells like nine animals live there. Oh wait! Nine animals do live there. I've got to finally become okay with the fact that I am never going to have a hairless, poop-free potpouri life. I love animals. In fact, I got really excited in the plane on the way home, just thinking about being greeted by a home full of needy fuzzy creatures. I love animals more than I love having a designer house. So I've got to get okay with a slightly stinky house. And I've got to get rid of my off-white carpet.
There's a lady named Vivian who works at our Animal Shelter. I've never had a real "role model" but she could definitely be one for me. She's probably 70 years old or so, and she has rescued animals her whole life. She was one of the main instigators in getting the shelter built in the first place. She and her husband never had kids; instead, they rehabilitated eagles and hawks and took in every stray animal that came their way. Her husband is gone, but she still has a very full and happy life. AND she has five cats and two dogs, and her house is always slightly stinky. She'll probably die scooping cat litter with a smile on her face. She'll just keel over PLOP right into the box.
Reality is also being back at work. I've realized that I don't feel burnt out like I used to, but part of that solution was working through some issues that have been eating at me for several years now. And I've only just realized that I have resolved them. Firstly, I have accepted that life does not become perfect once you become a stay-at-home mom. If anything, it becomes more difficult. Secondly, I have accepted that this is not where my heart is--it's not my passion, it's not my calling. It's just a job. And it pays the bills. I truly believe that God is going to let me live my passion at some point, maybe sooner, maybe later. Until then, I just paddle away at my day job and work on my own projects on my off time. (Actually, as my husband pointed out, my current job is perfect for me because it's so brainless and easy, I have plenty of time to secretly work on my own stuff. Ha ha, system. I am beating you.)
Unresolved issues: pregnancy/motherhood. Well, of course. The thing is there is a difference between simply trying to conceive and joining the Pregnancy Race. Trying to conceive is where the sane, rational, normal trying couples reside. And then there is the Pregnancy Race, which is where most of us infertiles are. You may say to yourself, "Eh, screw this, I'm quitting and getting a Gatorade." However, at the sight of a big round belly or baby stroller, you realize that you are still in the Race and, most of all, you are losing. You ain't drinking Gatorade, you are still sweating bullets. Anyway, I am still there. I'm unresolved on this issue, as much as I would like to think otherwise.
There's nothing like being back at home to catapult you into reality. My house smells like nine animals live there. Oh wait! Nine animals do live there. I've got to finally become okay with the fact that I am never going to have a hairless, poop-free potpouri life. I love animals. In fact, I got really excited in the plane on the way home, just thinking about being greeted by a home full of needy fuzzy creatures. I love animals more than I love having a designer house. So I've got to get okay with a slightly stinky house. And I've got to get rid of my off-white carpet.
There's a lady named Vivian who works at our Animal Shelter. I've never had a real "role model" but she could definitely be one for me. She's probably 70 years old or so, and she has rescued animals her whole life. She was one of the main instigators in getting the shelter built in the first place. She and her husband never had kids; instead, they rehabilitated eagles and hawks and took in every stray animal that came their way. Her husband is gone, but she still has a very full and happy life. AND she has five cats and two dogs, and her house is always slightly stinky. She'll probably die scooping cat litter with a smile on her face. She'll just keel over PLOP right into the box.
Reality is also being back at work. I've realized that I don't feel burnt out like I used to, but part of that solution was working through some issues that have been eating at me for several years now. And I've only just realized that I have resolved them. Firstly, I have accepted that life does not become perfect once you become a stay-at-home mom. If anything, it becomes more difficult. Secondly, I have accepted that this is not where my heart is--it's not my passion, it's not my calling. It's just a job. And it pays the bills. I truly believe that God is going to let me live my passion at some point, maybe sooner, maybe later. Until then, I just paddle away at my day job and work on my own projects on my off time. (Actually, as my husband pointed out, my current job is perfect for me because it's so brainless and easy, I have plenty of time to secretly work on my own stuff. Ha ha, system. I am beating you.)
Unresolved issues: pregnancy/motherhood. Well, of course. The thing is there is a difference between simply trying to conceive and joining the Pregnancy Race. Trying to conceive is where the sane, rational, normal trying couples reside. And then there is the Pregnancy Race, which is where most of us infertiles are. You may say to yourself, "Eh, screw this, I'm quitting and getting a Gatorade." However, at the sight of a big round belly or baby stroller, you realize that you are still in the Race and, most of all, you are losing. You ain't drinking Gatorade, you are still sweating bullets. Anyway, I am still there. I'm unresolved on this issue, as much as I would like to think otherwise.
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