Ever wish you could go back into time and be a fly on the wall so you could watch history repeat itself or to see what maybe your parents were like as teenagers? Oh gosh, I’ve thought about this numerous times over the years.
Sometimes, I wish I could send my husband back into time so that he could see what I was like as a kid, a teenager and a twenty-something young lady.
Hubby met me in and around the time I left my 20’s and entered my 30’s. You know, that period in your life when you realize you’re not 20 something anymore so you try to convince yourself that 30 is the new 20? Yeah, that time.
You know what I’m talking about!
When he met me, I was already a mother. I was responsible, caring, hard-working and devoted to my eldest daughter, Teen B. When I wasn’t teaching full-time, I was working hard to provide a life for us two that was comfortable, safe, full of love and fun.
Hubby met the serious me. The older me. The mother me.
His first impression of me was that I was a city girl, which I was, but with that title came his belief that I was also a bit of a girlie-girl.
A girlie-girl? Me? < Give me a minute to stop laughing.>
When I tell the hubs that I was a tomboy growing up, climbing trees, catching snakes, filling ant holes with water and always playing with boys in my neighbourhood, he nods and smirks in a non-believing manner. He doesn’t buy the idea that for all of my elementary school years, I sported scrapes and bruises all over my legs and refused to wear skirts or dresses.
When I tell the hubs that I hated wearing dresses and skirts until I was in my 20’s, I know he begs to differ even though he says, “Oh really?”.
When I tell the hubs that I was actively involved in sports all throughout school, he says “I believe you” but I know he’s secretly laughing. I betcha I could have whooped his butt in a 100 meter sprint!
You see what I’m dealing with here? He doesn’t believe I was an outdoor playing, athletically skilled, tom-boyish girl.
He only sees me now. The girl who stopped being active once she became a mother. The girl who no longer exercises or plays an organized sport.
So any opportunity I get to show my girls and my hubby what I can do and what I’m made of, I take.
Whether it’s teaching my girls how to do a cartwheel, roughing it while we’re camping and enjoying it, hiking in snow-covered mountains or carrying them across freezing cold streams, I’m trying to show them the side of mommy that is adventurous and daring.
Only now, my abilities are limited by an older-something body.
And I have to be careful not to hurt myself.
You can’t win ’em all.
But I can certainly try!