Looking back, it's amazing we didn't break up over the wedding china. I'd insisted Dave participate in the bridal registry. He'd dutifully trail along to various department stores as I picked out towels, small appliances, vases and platters, posh salt and pepper shakers. I buzzed around, excited by thoughts of the wedding, the home we'd be setting up, our future; Dave just wanted to know when we could go have dinner. Choosing the china nearly broke him. We hadn't had a formal set in my own home growing up, and I wasn't sure about any of it—pattern? Color? 12 pieces? 8 pieces? Did I definitely need the gravy boat?
Dave finally lost it at Michael C. Fina. "I don't care what we eat off! The floor would be FINE!" he said in the most annoyed tone of voice I'd ever heard him use. I got the hint. But I still made him pick out serving utensils and, yep, we got the gravy boat. I was beyond Bridezilla—I was Brideosaurus Rex.
I was thinking about that day tonight as I put away the china I'd taken out for our Thanksgiving feast, the set I hadn't used since Max was born. It seems mind-boggling that I'd found picking dishes to be a stress-making task. Dishes.
I'm sure it's this way for plenty of parents. We look back at pre-kid times and marvel at how "carefree" life was and the trivial stuff we obsessed over and we think, Wow, what fluffheads we were. As a mom of a kid with disabilities, I'm sure I romanticize life then even more. It all seems so lightweight compared to the heavyweight concerns I have now. Although the gravy boat still gets me a little excited.
I finished stacking the dishes and shut the closet door. Max was hanging in the living room; I scooped him up to get him ready for bed, and he nestled his head in my neck and breathed in, that sweet thing he does when he's content. And then, I wasn't thinking about anything else except the pleasures of my present.
How about you: What kind of things get you sentimental about your former life?
You have such a wonderful way of putting things in perspective. This is a brilliant post because it is so true!!! The things that we think are of the utmost importance end up being the things that we barely even remember.
ReplyDeleteHowever, those dishes will be important again one day -- when you pass them along to Max or Sabrina and see the looks on their faces.
Ahhh, photographs and memories! An old motorcycle helmet--I can't imagine riding on the back of one of those nowadays....I still keep the thing, though.
ReplyDeleteCertain smells bring back memories for me. Shalimar always reminds me of Grandma and meatballs w/sauce, Nonna, baby powder, pooh. To this day I can't stand the smell of baby powder because it reminds me of changing diapers.
ReplyDeleteThis post reminds me of how I feel about my life before chronic illness.
ReplyDeleteI think the important thing to remember, is just like how things seemed "heavy weight" then and in retrospect we find it ridiculous... some of the heavy weight now doesnt really require such stress. Its a great way to reframe and really enjoy what you have now - even with all the tough parts.
Picking out a toaster oven while registering for my wedding was so stressful that we had to leave Macys and come back another day. I was stressed to pick the PERFECT toaster oven. One that we would use forever. Of course, it broke 6 years later and now we have a new one. It was all so silly.....the perfect registry. Now I deal with my imperfect life and love it.
ReplyDeleteHa! Three things I loved about this post: 1.) "Fluffheads"--I do not think you could have found a better word to describe life pre-kids, 2.) Brideosaurus Rex--LOL. I was her too. and 3.) The little reminder of how much thought I put into china that I've used maybe 5 times (at best) in 10 years. Thanks for the smiles. xoxo
ReplyDeleteSoo many things. Being able to go to the midnight premiere of a movie together with my husband. Hours spent holding hands while reading books and drinking coffee at a bookstore. Weekends spent doing nothing, schlepping nowhere.
ReplyDeleteI love my kids, but I really miss those days.
My husband and I nearly broke up over The Silverware Issue. It was so ridiculous. And, of course, our house is now dominated by plastic sporks.
ReplyDeleteNot having kids does not make me a fluff-head. As someone who cannot have kids, this hurt.
ReplyDelete