Stretching the Seams

Marriage and stepmoming are kind of awesome.  But I’ve also found them to be like a new pair of jeans that fit a little snug.  They have all the awesome sparkles that fancy jeans do, the hugs and kisses and Friday’s pizza and movies, but they also have a little muffin top and waste squeezing when I sit.  You know, the no-more-alone time and crazy, talking-through- the-tough-stuff-after-10:00 nights that leave me exhausted.

I married the first time right out of college.  Because we did not have kids (a long, tragic story), and after a few years  spent very little time together in any meaningful way, I had a lot of time on my own.  I developed lots of habits and routines that didn’t really involve anyone else but me.  Later, after the divorce, I began to develop more of a social life, but I still had plenty of freedom to relax and veg as I wanted.

All of that changed after the “I do”s.  Team Matt and Laura actually do most things as a team, and I love it.  We clean together, work together, and play together.  When Isabelle is with us, we go hard.  Whether doing homework or packing in the fun, we are always on the go.  My jeans are fabulously sparkly.

On the other hand, some of that alone time I used to have…well…I miss it.  I miss having the opportunity to sit in front of the television and watch four back-to-back episodes of Criminal Minds while crocheting the next niece or nephew afghan.  I miss a lazy Saturday sleeping in followed by Starbucks and a leisurely mani/pedi .  It makes me feel like I need to suck in my gut.

So I’ve been learning recently how to stretch the seams a little.  I’ve discovered the mystery behind my mom friend’s glee at getting to go grocery shopping alone.  The first time I found myself walking the HEB aisles solo I felt strangely liberated.  Besides that, I’d picked up a grande, nonfat, no whip, three pump mocha along the way.  I’ve also learned that on the nights when Matt has HOA board meetings or some other commitment, those are my nights to be vegetable like. 

And then there is the commute.  From home to work takes about 45 minutes depending on the traffic.  Rather than the drag I imagined it would be, it’s become a morning gear up and afternoon wind down opportunity.  A couple times a week it is also prime time for talking to my mom, hands free of course.

Every day and week we are married, these fabulous, sparkle-butt jeans (as my sweet math friend calls them) begin to get a little more comfortable.  I find ways to grab moments I need for renewal that give them a little stretch.  Of course they always get a little snug again in the wash, but I’m beginning to have more confidence that each time, with a little wear, they will loosen.  I suspect that they will eventually become that favorite, go to pair that feel like home.