My idea of what counts as relaxation has changed

Arm flab that appeared out of nowhere. Chin flab that appeared out of nowhere. The ability to change the diaper of a squirming 20 pounds of poop-covered pudge without  painting a poo mural on the furniture or the walls. A lot of things have changed since becoming a mom.

One of the changes that’s been more amusing to me — which doesn’t involve body fat or feces — is my newfound ability to full-on, totally and completely, absolutely and utterly relax in the most unusual of situations. Ok, maybe they’re not unusual. But they sure as hell weren’t what I’d consider my moments of zen in pre-mom days.

First of all, I never knew how precious time alone in the car could be. A drive without anyone else in the car is what I consider “me time” now. I can blast Lady Gaga. I can listen to podcasts. I can drive in silence. Ah, driving, you complete me.

The grocery store is a pretty close second to the car. Oh em gee, do I love leisurely pushing a cart around, winding through the produce — hellooo pretty lemons and limes and blueberries and raspberries — and the bakery — get in my belly, delicious donuts and danishes — and aisle after aisle of lovely food. I stroll up and down those aisles with a sense of calm once achieved only from a massage table.

But probably my favorite of all: reclined in the dentist’s chair. I legit want to fall asleep every time I got to the dentist, as the hygienist gently reclines the chair back and back and back some more, until I’m lying down, staring at the ceiling. Never mind the fact that she’s using instruments that look like torture devices in my mouth. Between the reclined position and the low hum of various dental instruments, I’m nearly lulled to blissful sleep every. single. time. It’s fabulous.

Yep, you could say life is a little different these days.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s