I wonder if I hadn't gotten married if I'd have ever learned to be content for long. I suppose I believed, albeit illogically, that marriage wouldn't slow me down, it'd just give me a travel companion. That was before I'd had a twelve month job (I taught school or was a waitress), or a mortgage, or any commitments beyond a few months. It's no wonder that I had more culture shock in my first few months of marriage than I'd ever had in any country I had visited. Fun shifted to weekends away, and then to day trips, and then we had a baby, and we'd try to run out for dinner and rush back before a feeding. Now we have two kids, and fun for me is the Nightly News and a good night's sleep.
It sounds like I'm complaining but I'm not . . . kids have changed me. I'm more content now, happy to be a stay-at-home mom, in our little town (the one I couldn't wait to leave), satisfied with the predictability of life for the most part . . . . but I realized recently that I'm too content. There are things that shouldn't be surrendered to your children. Who you were before kids, the things that made you come alive, the things you believed in . . . Life is meant to be lived, I once believed, and set my life to living . . . I don't believe it any less now. I just don't work as hard at it.
(part 2 is coming . . . after the Nightly News and a good night's sleep).