The other night Paul asked me if I wanted to do something and I said no, it wasn’t on my agenda. We’d just put the kids to bed and I had this laundry list of things I needed to do and get done in my mind. Every night is like that. The minute Paul takes the kids upstairs, I start in on my list. Clean the kitchen, do the laundry, make 3 pinafores for customers, do more laundry, write a blog post, buy some pink fabric, go to sleep. But it’s not just my nights, it’s my days, my weeks, my months. They’re all planned. Paul accused me of not being spontaneous. Nope, I’m sure not.
The reality is that 3 1/2 years ago I had a baby and my life became a schedule. I’m not sure I was spontaneous before, I don’t remember that far back. Maybe I was and maybe I wasn’t but spontaneity to me now is an unplanned trip to Target. My calendar isn’t as full as it will be some day, what with soccer games and ballet classes and parent-teacher meetings, and helping with homework, but there’s stuff on there for months to come. But each day there are things I need to do, things that have to get done and so no, I’m not spontaneous.
Maybe someday I’ll be reintroduced to spontaneity and my life will be less led by small people and their wants and needs. But it’s not today and it’s sure not tomorrow – it’s not on the agenda.