The first and most obvious is this blog, but let’s dig a little deeper, shall we? Every mom has some reservations about this giant life change – pining for party days, or their high powered career, or their size 2 body. My younger friends at work still invite me to their bar nights, and while I’m thrilled to be invited, honestly, it doesn’t sound like a lot of fun anymore. We get there at 10? PM?! I clearly miss my tepid powered career, and don’t even get me started on the sadistic ways that motherhood has messed with my body, but these aren’t my biggest regrets. My biggest is that I used to be a hippy. Not just any hippy, not a sometimes buy organic produce and have a predilection for patchouli-based scents hippy, but a student at the University of Victoria in the 90s hippy. A vegetarian, marching on Seattle hippy. A move to small mountain town to be a wildlife biologist hippy.
The depth of my fall was brought to my attention recently. No, not when I spent $70 on one compact of mineral foundation, or when I obsessed over the décor for Hannah’s room. Not even when I pick my dog up from the groomers. It was talking to my dear friend Christy who goes back to my university days, as she agonized over buying an SUV. And I realized that we already have one, and a house in suburban Calgary from which we commute 40 minutes to work every day. In our SUV.
Oh the dereliction of youthful promise and the hypocrisy of middle age is not a new theme either, but it’s funny how little it matters to have heard it all before when you’re going through it! I remember asking my favourite teacher in junior high, Mr. Hajek, what happened with the 60’s? What happened to you guys? How did it become the 80’s? He looked at me sideways, like he was regretting opening the floor to such discussion, and admitted that people get tired. Just get tired of trying so hard.
To a certain degree that’s bullshit. It’s hard to believe that the decline of the idealism of the 60s to the rampant greed of the 80s was the result of fatigue. Having said that, it IS hard to remain an ascetic. As I sit in front of my gas fireplace with my laptop and beer and rationalize that my SUV has room enough for Hannah and our 80 pound dog Stella, and enough stuff for a weekend if we put a sport box on the roof. It has heated leather seats and turns on a dime! AND THAT FOUNDATION WORKS WONDERS! I’m ashamed to admit it but a certain amount of hypocrisy is required to survive in the world. It doesn’t take away from the things that you do try to do. Like buying organic produce every now and then. And in the family truckster, with baby and dog and sport rack box on top as we drove to visit the folks in Edmonton, I made peace with my radical side and promised to keep using cloth diapers and be more conscientious about bringing my reusable coffee mug with me wherever I go.
Besides, it could be worse. We were passed on the highway by a Mercedes with a Thule on top.
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