It's a very bizarre thing to be able to get depressed over being too happy. I know that. I also know that it is obnoxious to complain about my situation when it is so light and bright but this is how Im feeling and by writing and putting it out there it helps. If I could stop feeling the anxiety and fear, I would. If I could stop from appearing to be an asshole, I would. But this helps too much.
So the 80's channel is on and my mind travels back to my youth. The majority of my memories as a child are from our family vacations to Canada. Every two or three years my parents would pack the four girls into the van and we would drive up to NY, drive onto the ferry, then continue the van trip up north. It would be 3 days by road and water each way and I guess we would be there for about a week or longer. Airfare for 6 was too steep. My dad was in the Air Force and the sole income provider so he would sacrifice never taking time off so we could take those long trips to Canada and Oklahoma (his childhood home). Now that I think about it my mom and us sacrificed too but I think it was worth it. One of my sisters has memories of everything but for me its those family trips I remember and thank God we had them or my whole past would be a blur.
To this day the most comfortable and at home that I feel is on the road. When it's the four boys (husband, 4 yo, 2 yo and dog) and me confined in that small space it makes me feel like there is nothing else in the world. No other cares. We are safe. Together. Taking journeys and making memories.
This past weekend from Saturday to last night we took the boys to my in laws lake house. My husband works 6 days a week so we get very limited family time together. I feel like the boys got some memories like mine from my past.
It took about an hour to get the four of us ready to go out into the snowonderland. This is how I kept warm:
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Husband's waders |
My mind transported the second I stepped into the snow, heard the crunch and felt the sensation traveling through my father in laws snow boots up my legs. For a split second I was back on top of a shed in Goosebay with my two older sisters jumping off into at least four feet of snow. I remember thinking back then it was odd that my mom was being cool enough to let us do it. I also remember how happy my dad was. Actual joy. I think that's probably the first glimpse of them being human, and not just parents, that I had. I must have been around 5. My oldest is almost the same age.
I used to think it was wrong for my parents to love each other more than they did us. I felt like we were all getting jipped. But now that I'm repeating their history I realize how important it is for me to be around my husband because he makes me a better mom. And just because I love their dad more (jk, kind of, wait) just because I love their dad differently doesnt mean I love him more. I get that now about my parents. Just like the love one feels for their spouse, the love one feels for their child, no matter the birth order, is incomparable to that of anyone. I promise to make it a point that all my boys know that.