Ah, to regress. It's wonderful and highly underrated. And I'm not talking about my son. I'm staying with my mom in her apartment on the east coast and I am enjoying every minute of it.
Yes, Father in Chief is all alone with the house and the dogs and the grown up responsibilities of running a household, and I am here in my mom's house getting to go out with my friends and someone else is doing laundry and buying groceries. Yes, the boy is with me, but willing watchers abound.
I miss my bed, FIC, and it is darn cold here, but I am not aching for my responsibilities as the primary childcare taker of my son, dealing with the dogs and their muddy paws, etc., etc. I guess I'm aching for that simpler time when I was 14 years old and I was my only responsibility. There was homework and curfew, but other than that, I worried about which friends I was spending time with, who I had a crush on, and if my lips would ever be de-virginized.
I've been home many times, but I don't remember ever seeing so many people from my impressionable formative years. Or maybe just so much time has passed—I moved away from the Western New York area 14 years ago—that there are no longer those cliques that let you talk to some people and not others. If I recognize someone, I go up to them and say hello. Doesn't matter if we were friends or not way back when. But since I've been here, I've seen so many people from my past who left positive and memorable imprints on my life: my first kiss, a HUGE crush, best friends.
Reality will return soon enough. In the meantime, I'm going out every chance I get while the boy is being cared for by willing family members. One foot is firmly planted in my parenting reality, and the other is staying out late with friends while getting a glimpse of my old life.
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