When I was in college, I would describe myself as a "fly by the seat of her pants" kind of girl. I was free spirited, inspired, ready for the world... Any Bob Marley song was my anthem, and as long as I had my close friends near, and Bob on the radio, we could do anything (or at least we thought we could). Ha! Well like everything, things change. I did not get over the whole college life easily... rather I went kicking and screaming into young adulthood trying to hold on to any college memory I could. My friends and I still get together in Pittsburgh, and re-visit our old stomping grounds- as if nothing has changed... We probably look like over served old ladies to the current college kids, but hey- for one night, I'll drink enough to put me back.
Now, that I am older I realize- I am not so free spirited. Actually, not really at all. I like order, schedules, and organization (to a degree). I don't want to fly by the seat of my pants, rather I want to control every aspect of my life... and I lay awake at night thinking of ways I can. I hate change. There I said it. I do. Like any laboring mother will tell you, transition is hard, but for me it is excruciating, scary, and just flat out dreadful.
You see, this is hard because I want to push myself out of my comfort zone, I want to think I am a constant learner, but the truth of the matter is- things outside of my comfort zone intimidate me. Being a mom, every new stage is out of my comfort zone, and like I did when I left college, I go kicking and screaming into each new stage of my boys life (well not literally- most days). It is like I have just mastered one thing, and then the whole sha-bang changes on me.
Just the other day, my lil monkey did something pretty awesome. We were walking down our stairs, and I started counting (a very normal activity), and he started counting with me...all the way to 7. YES- 7, my baby is a genius!! I instantly called my husband, and demanded to know who had taught him how to count-I was sure it wasn't me. After my initial shock, we got in the car and went about our day. Something funny happened, I realized I was crying... sobbing, rather. And not happy tears because of his accomplishment, but sad tears. Sad, selfish tears- I realized, my baby is not a genius, he just isn't a baby anymore. YUCK. There it is... change. New stage, new things, new skills, different life.
So I have accepted that I hate change... and I have accepted that despite my fear and hatred of change, change is going to happen. So how do I deal? Well- it may involve some kicking and screaming... but that won't change a thing...
From one soul to another,
Embrace change
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