Wednesday night Marc and I attended one of our regular charity functions - Bingo night for the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence. Much fun to be had, as we helped raise money for charity, got to hear a cappella singing and possibly win cash & prize bags. Much fun. Unlike many, attending a fundraiser that monthly raises over $4,000 for good causes does not assuage my need to give back to the community, instead it heightens my sense that I'm not doing enough. This feeling may be accentuated also by my listening to Barak Obama's Audacity of Hope book, which reminds me that we are all in this together; there are few simple answers and I'm really blessed in life.
But we had taken little Tsunami into the city, as we're still suffering from her inability to restrict her elimination to the garden. She will not pee at the city apartment, so we decided to take her there while we were going out instead of leaving her crated for 6 hours.
So, we attend the event, run back to the apartment, load up things to move (I'm relocating to the country estate) and headed out. I had little Tsui on my lap and was absently conversing with Marc, being too tired for deep thought. Tsui rearranges so her little head is hanging over my legs and then starts heaving. I think it is just a coughing thing until I pet her and my hand gets slimy. Oh dear, I turn on the light. I have small dog vomit all over my jeans.
I turn to Marc, "Do we have any towels in the car?" Not wanting to spend the next 30 minutes covered in puke. We did, I had left a travel pack of kleenex in the center console after our Thanksgiving trip. I couldn't believe it - I wasn't repulsed or disgusted. Not sure if that had to do with my level of exhaustion or that I'm really, honestly, truly an adult now. A few wipes and things were almost back to normal.
However, my tired mind did start churning and I wonder if I was really ready for motherhood. I mean, I recall being repulsed by the gross things my friends would do with their children and wonder how they could do that and still have an appetite. But here I was, not a gurgle in my tummy nor a tightening of the throat at that special gag reflex spot. Instead I was focused on my sweet dog and hoping this isn't the start of her getting car sick. Or did she eat something at the city house? All concern, no repulsion. Strange.
We do change our focus as we age. 10 years ago I would spend a summer weekend on a party boat on the delta, now, my summer trips are to visit cousins. Saturday night I'm looking forward to a long night of sleep, not a hot night at the clubs. The shift happens slowly, finding that I ddon't need to hyper social, "blow off steam" or hit the hottest restaurant. Instead, I crave reading time, gym time, family time. What I found exhilarating fun in my 20's, can now drain me. I didn't think it could happen. Give me a dinner with Marci & Aaron, a walk with the dog pack or Marc & a bubble bath - I think my raving days are done.