My life then:
A perfect one bedroom apartment with views and bonus room and hardwood floors; a whiskey and a spliff while reading at night in bed; turning down invitations to go out because home alone never gets old; cooking elaborate meals for one, just for the fun of it; toned arms and a flat chest and a perfect size four ass; sleeping in on Saturdays and dedicating hours at a time to the Sunday crosswords.
My life now:
I am a mother, a wife, and a middle manager. I pay much too much in rent for a house that is still much too small. I’m up at 5:30 every day (even on weekends) and am too tired at night for reading, let alone for whiskey or pot or even for conversation with my poor husband. I cook only what can be pureed into a baby-friendly soup, and I eat only what can be scooped into my mouth while holding a squirming twenty-two pound child. My friends all know by now not to even bother with an invitation, because free time after the baby goes to sleep is too precious to waste on leaving the house.
My life is harder now than it has ever been in the past, but at the same time I am happier and more fulfilled that I ever thought possible. If these seem like contradictory statements, then chances are you don’t have kids. Every day my life is hard work – by the time I get to my desk at 8:30am I have done more than I did with whole days in my previous life – but with this work comes the reward of a happy child, a job well done, and a fulfilling marriage.
Now if only I could figure out how to get the laundry folded, then I’d really have it all.