I ain't missing you...all that much

I once wrote that there's not much I miss about my life before kids. Jimmy read that line, and couldn't seem to get past it. He stared at me, waiting for me to explain this obviously ridiculous statement that I made.

"There's not much you miss about your life before kids?" he asked incredulously.

He really didn't get it, because while he loves our children every bit as much as I do, there's actually a lot that he misses about his life before kids.

Me? No, there's really not that much.

Just a few things, really.

Mostly, I  miss my sanity. But I've decided that's like losing a loved one. It's hard at first, but over time, you realize they're just not coming back, and you have to learn to live without them.

I miss my favorite coffee mug that someone dropped on the floor sometime in 2009. It was hand crafted and big--the kind of mug you could wrap both hands around as you sat on the couch and watched the Today show and sipped your wonderfully hot coffee.

But since I no longer get to sit on the couch, or watch the Today show, or drink coffee that's even a little bit hot, I guess it doesn't matter all that much.

OK, so I miss those things, too.

Just a little.

I miss my favorite reading lamp that someone smashed to pieces sometime in 2010. I had no idea that a lamp could break into that many pieces. Then again, what was I thinking, trying to have a lamp with three kids in the house?

Now we just use flashlights.

Besides, reading lamps are for people who get to actually sit next to one and read, and these days, most of my reading is done in bed.

With a flashlight.

I miss being able to sit on my bed on Sunday nights and fold clothes, and then actually put them away. I know that's a weird thing to miss, and while I was doing it, I had no idea I would someday miss it. But there was a certain solitude and order to it all, and well, I miss those things, too.

There were a few times since I had kids when I still tried to do this, and within five minutes, there were three kids on my bed, throwing socks everywhere, trying on my skirts, and using my neatly folded clothes as parachutes as they jumped off the bed.

I gave up after that.

I miss being able to go to dinner or away for the weekend on a whim. Of course, we still do those things. But going out to dinner just isn't the same when you have to pause between each bite to tell someone to stop throwing dinner rolls, or stop licking the butter, or get the fork out of their brothers ear. Going away for the weekend still happens occasionally, though three kids also means planning three months ahead, packing for three days, and a three vehicle caravan just to carry all our crap  necessary luggage.

Taking three xanax helps, too.

OK, fine, so there are a few things that I miss.

But here's the thing:

I'll take my broken coffee mug, and my cold coffee. My shattered lamp and wrinkled clothes. My rushed dinners and chaotic weekends away.

Because as much as I may miss some of those moments from my old life, I wouldn't want to miss a single moment of this one.