My Third of Life Crisis

It was simultaneously a very slow, yet very fast, summer.  We didn’t do anything to speak of; travel and the like are yet out of our budget.  I spent the summer shuttling the girls to classes (swimming, robotics, music and theater), taking them to play dates and the park, going to the library and walking around downtown.  I fixed nutritious lunches and snacks, read stories and played with dolls with them.  In other words, I was a good focused mom and the girls had a lovely summer.

The topic of Christmas came up awhile back.  I mentioned I’d like a new vacuum cleaner, and stopped cold; I sounded old.  A vacuum cleaner?  My husband countered that it wasn’t that we were old, really, so much as struggling, and the allocation of money made more sense for household items.  Like maybe a new couch that wasn’t bleeding its stuffing guts on the carpet.  (We saved enough for a couch, and then the power steering hoses went out of my car.  So, back to sewing up the couch and hoping it doesn’t snap in half when I sit on it.)  So yes, while what I’d really like is a new shiny PS4 and a copy of Arkham Knight, well, I need the vacuum more.  To be a good wife and mom, and all.

So a couple of weeks later, I was sitting at the table eating a tuna sandwich.  One of a long line of many, as we’d inherited many cans of tuna.  I like tuna, but after eating it every day for a couple of weeks I wanted to drop-kick said sandwich onto the lawn.  My toddler was singing the theme song from Team Umizoomi on a loop and my older daughter was regaling me with the story of some game she’d made up about Sonic the Hedgehog, and getting married or something.  There were dishes in the sink, the lawn needed mowing, and the kids’ toy boxes were turned over and needing to be picked up.  And suddenly, staring at my sandwich, I wanted to do something new.  Something different, something not mom-or-wife related.  I wanted to get my ears pierced.

Why that, of all things?  I always wanted my ears double pierced when I was a teen, but my parents wouldn’t let me.  Which is fair–they had a rule about being able to do anything I wanted as long as it wasn’t permanent.  I’m not angry about that.  As I got older, I still wanted it, but I was always too busy or too broke, or living in a country where I wasn’t sure I could communicate well enough to get it done.  And then, working, pregnant, kids, so busy.  But suddenly, tuna sandwich be damned, I wanted my ears pierced.  Right now.

Fortunately my husband, who understands I go off on these tangents sometimes, said, “Sure, go ahead.”  I found the cheapest place I could, a little local salon, and had it done by a meticulous older lady who had a multitude of piercings of her own.  She was very careful and they look beautiful.

I don’t know if anyone else notices, and frankly I don’t care.  I notice.  It was a little change I made for me, and that makes all the difference.

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