Growing Pains

I have been spending a lot of time trying to "live in the moment" by slowing things down a little, trying not to conquer the world on a Saturday morning, letting Handsome call more of the shots, and just allowing myself to enjoy all that I do have.

Having this child smile and kick her legs crazily when she sees you first thing in the morning pretty much clears whatever schedule I thought I had, and pajama party morning ensues. And I am totally okay with that. If the Bean wants to spend the morning talking to her Whale Toy Boyfriend, I am not going to miss out on that.

This change in me has come on slowly, steadily, and somewhere along this journey, I started to grow up - mainly because I didn't have a choice, really, but the transition occurred regardless. I still have my crazier than a bedbug moments and an occasional beer(s) at lunch with friends, but the difference is that I can temper that side more often than not. Hell, the difference is that I don't really want to be anywhere else but with my little family, and I don't want anything to compromise that (alcohol, etc). Having that control has given me a new lease on all areas of my life.

Funny though, I don't know why I am surprised at the occasional line that becomes more pronounced with time, or surprised by the total exhaustion that hits me at around 3PM everyday - I spent the majority of my twenties drinking and smoking and partying and pushing all my limits. Evidence of my youthful choices and experiences seem to have scarred me both physically and emotionally, and my recovery is a constant work in progress.

And now I am 29. Funny how 30 ain't really looking all that bad from this angle.
5 years ago, this undeniable progression scared me.
5 years ago, I was an invincible superhero.
5 years ago, my life was out of control and scary.

Last night I took an inventory of what is happening in my world: I have a beautiful daughter, an amazing husband, a new house and a mighty mortgage, my little brother got married, my relationship with my family is finally starting to gel, and my hair is turning gray too fast for me to keep up with it. I see laugh lines when I look in the mirror, I see a woman starting back at me. And I think - how the hell did this happen to ME?

But then I sort of like it.

I am proud that I made it this far. I like who I am becoming, I love being a mother and a wife and my job and my new set of goals. I still fucking rock, at times, which is just enough now.

Weird to admit, but damn, life is good. We may not always have enough money to get through the two-week pay period, and Ramen CAN be good for a few meals, but LIFE IS GOOD.

And check out that beautiful bean footage above.

End of the Chapter

Three Birds Used Books officially closed this weekend...not that we were open much in the month of February. Honestly, we thought about opening, but what is the point really? It was just really depressing and a waste of time. Once we decided to end this journey, we should have packed up and moved on right then. Dragging it out for a month and a half was just heart-wrenching.

Avoidance could only last so long. We had a landlord to answer to if we continued on our path.

Saturday morning I forced myself into the sad store, stuck my signature emotional song on the computer (Sia - Breathe Me) and cried my eyes out while packing up every available receptacle with books to donate to The Book Thing. It felt like an appropriate response, so I went with it. I cried, I tried to mourn. Until "Hollaback Girl" came up on the iTunes queue, and then I was serving the nation with my lip syncing rendition of Pre-Pregnant Gwen and using the coffee creamer as a microphone spelling out B-A-N-A-N-A-S with a punctuation of my hips. That felt good too.

Had I had more energy or foresight, I could have hosted a party in which whomever came could walk away with whatever books they pleased...but of course, I treated the closing of the store like most other big sad events of my life...like it just wasn't really happening.

So instead of thinking ahead, I plunged deep into the task and went rather manic on the task of purging the bookstore of its existence.

First round of books were packed into the car, taken over to the donation center....that went okay. I called Handsome to let him know that I was okay and would handle all the cleaning out of the books. That I would finish the task. Mind you, I was in full on crazy Meghan mode, grunting and tossing books into boxes and bags and tying stacks up with whatever available string we had around. I was quickly building up my fortress. This. Will. Not. Affect. Me.

Second round was a little more depressing...especially since at this point I stopped caring. Or maybe I stopped thinking about what I was really doing and just got seriously pissed off. I did pause to think about what it feels like to close on a dream...and that is what I was doing really...choosing to end a dream and knowing that I did a shitty job of trying to turn a dream into reality. But I didn't let it last too long. I wanted to get this over with already, so I dove back into it.

Third round was by far the most emotionally and physically taxing. I could have asked Handsome to do this, but once I came this far, I had to finish it. In some way, it felt almost like a penance. I was cramming every last book into the car, not leaving any literature behind.

I went to lock the door to the store, and was stunned by how empty it was - the bare bookshelves, the lack of literary chaos. Gone. Like that. All those books that Handsome and I so carefully hand-picked to stock. All of the work of getting the business license and petitioning the zoning board to let us open up in this space, the failed block party, the people we met, DONE. Its over. That is that.

Of course, the trade-off for this ending is that I can spend the entire weekend with the most beautiful Bean ever to sprout...she is growing so quickly that I hate to miss a second of her awake moments. Odd that I don't mind getting up at 5 AM just to hang out with her. As a matter of fact, it is the best part of my day. Singing about bananas and oatmeal and cookies is just as fascinating to me as it is to her. So really, I can't be all that glum. That is that.

And after dumping books thrice, I came home to a very loving Handsome who wrapped his arms around me and let me cry it out. Reminded me of why we decided to go this route. And asked me what my next dream was. What I was going to accomplish next.

To channel Lois again, I thought, Fuck YEAH! I DID something, at least, that was really hard to do, that outwardly expressed who we are and what we are all about, that everyone told us NOT to do. And we learned so much from this experience, even if we did it improperly. We certainly did what we could within our means, and I am proud of that.

Next dream: to finally get my fucking degree. I am halfway there, babies. And now I only have to take one night away from the Bean to take on that goal rather than a whole weekend away from her.

I think it is going to be okay. I can't believe that I moved every book in that store by myself.

I wonder what the reps for Effexor would have to say about THAT.