Most of you know that I share my son, Jaxson, with his father every other weekend. It’s been about 8 years of having to send him away for 48 hours. I know most of you reading are whispering “what would I do? I don’t even know what I did before my children.” and maybe some of you are thinking “LIVE IT UP, GIRL!”
It’s a balancing act no doubt. A balancing act between a life as a mother and a life of a single person. I have learned that it’s important for me to have my own life and I’ve also learned its important to not let the guilt over come me. It’s important because I could easily sit inside, alone for that 48 hours feeling sorry for myself and believe me I did that in the beginning. Feeling crapping about having to share him isn’t anything to do with anyone but me. It’s selfish. And I was hurting no one but myself.
About 6 months into the routine of sharing Jaxson, I found myself really really sad and for no reason. I wasn’t sick. Jaxson wasn’t either. I was getting good grades (I was in college at the time), all of my family members were fine, but I couldn’t shake a terrible gloom that hung.
For some reason, on a fairly normal gloomy day: I finally accepted an invite to attend a live show with a friend who simply asked. It was hard to say yes and it almost hurt putting clothes on. BUT with that simple YES I ended up being introduced to three long life friends. I met Sarah, Bethany and Brad; all of who I love dearly. The power of yes to something ordinary or small can turn good and unapologetic and occasionally revelatory.
This weekend while Jaxson was away I drank lattes in the morning, tea in the afternoon, tried not to think too much about anything stressful, looked up a lot of music I’ve been into on youtube, drank a glass of red wine at an art opening and then another at a friendsgiving, ate pesto that I had froze from the summer, explored new parts of my neighborhood on a new route for Newton’s walk, met an old friend for a drink that turned into 5 or 6, rode in a cab’s front seat and when Sunday afternoon came around far too fast, I retired with pizza and old episodes of Grey’s Anatomy. (I have a slight obsession with the first 2 seasons)
Sometimes I think life in Omaha is like nowhere else. This place in the fall is remarkable no doubt, but mostly life here is made by the friendships, personal history and the late-night conversations that happen in dimly lit bars, and the willingness to say yes to any invite that I can.
Mostly listening to on my YouTube search