why not ask?

I've spent a lot of time trying to get back to normal, whatever that is. I realize now that it's nearly impossible to return to a prior state of affairs, and I don't want to--mostly. We don't smoke in the house anymore, and it being winter, and me being thin with poor circulation, well, I'm down to about a half a pack a day, as opposed to my normal whole pack a day, and sometimes more if I'm drinking. It's O.K. The house smells better, my clean laundry stays cleaner, and I don't have to feel guilty that I'm exposing my cats to secondhand smoke.

I don't drink much anymore. If I do, I feel sick for two days, my ears fill with fluid again, and I have to sleep and drink seven bottles of water for the first day after. And this is after only two or three beers or a couple of glasses of wine. I won't lie and say I don't want to drink. Just can't, really. And I have to accept this as normal, at least for now. Still, I'm fine with it.

I don't "go out" like I used to. Even visiting old haunts once in a while proves that I'm not in the same place I once was, and often enough, proves that I'm better for it. I miss playing music, yes. Having an ear problem that sometimes impedes speech and muffles my hearing makes it difficult, but not impossible. But then there's this matter of going out, and then not drinking. I don't want to settle for a life without music. It's not permanent, but it's going to be different if I ever make it back. It will still be good, whenever it is that I get there.

What's happening mostly is that I'm getting older. I'm not saying I'm old, but I'm facing the fact that I've reached an age (37) whereby my poor posture is hurting me in ways I never imagined possible. After all of the years of being hounded by relatives and friends to "stand up straight," I've reached a point that musculoskeletally speaking, this is simply impossible without physical therapy and training. Even then, I'm not sure that my body will ever fully recover from the damage I've done. Damn you, elementary school, for having so many short kids and late-bloomers.

Another phase I've entered, is the high-risk pregnancy age-group. That's assuming that I haven't yet reached the perimenopausal stage of my life. And I'm still not feeling prepared to have babies (as if one could ever be prepared for such a thing)! What's difficult about this, is that most of my friends have gone ahead and done it without me. Their kids are beautiful, but also a number of other things. Cute, funny, ADHD, smart, ill-behaved, loving, tall for their age, small compared to me, and well-loved by their parents. And I think it's great--but I don't have any.

One thing this leads me to, is that I'm caught in the middle. I don't need or want to go out much, but on the other hand, my days, nights, and weekends are wide open.  I try to be productive. I read, I write, I watch documentaries, and sometimes movies. I cook, I clean, I do laundry. I eat, and sometimes I sleep, mostly poorly.

My question is, does this really create a gap between me and my friends with children? I try to be sensitive to my friends' needs as parents. It's just that I have no real knowledge or experience as to what their needs may be. I do have common sense, however, and probably some sort of motherly instinct that has thus far only led to the bad habit of mothering my boyfriends, past and present.

Via Facebook, my friends with children need to get out for a drink, or they need some adult conversation, or they need a babysitter to allow for some adult conversation and a drink, in which case I volunteer, but then I won't be there to participate in said activities, a service I also like to provide for my friends with children. Also via Facebook, my friends are entertained by their children, loved by them, and reminded every day why this part of their life is undeniably satisfying. I can't leave this out of the equation, and in consideration of this, I feel I should make it clear that their children are welcome to be a part of the things we do as friends. In fact, it may be necessary.

I try to be sensitive about this parting of ways. I try to plan things around your and your children's schedules. When I call to make plans, depending on the thing we might like to do, I think about what time your small counterparts get out of school, or what day their fathers pick them up, or whether I should just offer to come to your place for coffee so we can both be with your kids and have a semi-adult, little ears present conversation. Who knows, maybe I could even talk to them, too.

What I mean by this, is that a lot of times, my friends don't ask if I'd like to join them when they take their kids to the zoo, or when they're going out for lunch kids in tow, or when they take them rollerskating or laser tagging and the like. All things I enjoy, albeit I've often enjoyed them sans children. Not by choice, but by circumstance.

O.K., so I'll concede that I never, ever want to play laser tag. It just seems like a germy activity--like video games at Salisbury Beach.

This all boils down to what I began with. Nothing is ever going to go back to normal, if normal is what my life was two, six, or eight years ago. I've changed. You've changed. I still need you and I still need us. Both with your children present, and without them.  I only hope you all still need me despite my lack of genetic counterparts. I assure you that I know how it works, and knowing that, I know I may never have any. This might only be sad if I find myself without friends, too. If there is a gap, I'd like to find out what it's made of, and how to close it before it's too late.

An aside, how the hell did this creep up on me?