“Settling down” almost seems like a bad word. Like once you start on that path, your life will lack adventure. Hubby and I spent last weekend at my parents’ lake house in Washington. Now that my three sisters are all well into their teen years, the house is filled with energy, excitement and giggling. It’s definitely fun to watch, but I found myself feeling tired very quickly. What has happened to me? Have I become boring?
When I was a little girl (around 8 yrs old), I remember one evening we had a babysitter come over. My sisters and I demanded that our babysitter play house with us, a pasttime that involved eating imaginary food and pretending to be an imaginary family. The sitter looked at us wistfully and said, “I can’t really play that anymore.” I was appalled. Horrified. What kind of jaded world was this where you forgot how to PLAY? I promised myself that I would never get that way.
16 years later…I don’t “play” house. I live in a small, two bedroom apartment, and keeping it up is what I do with much of my time. And you know what? It’s actually fun. This is the “real thing.” I actually take joy in deep cleaning behind the oven (for the first time in 2 years).
I’ll end with this. As I’ve grown up and settled down, I’m finding it doesn’t take much to make me happy. It could be a really good sale on Lysol wipes, the smell of clean sheets on laundry day, or just knowing that someone could pull out my oven, look behind it, and find that it is spotless.