“Hopped of the plane at LAX with my dream and a cardigan…”
I found myself singing a Miley Cyrus song into a microphone in front of hundreds of people I had never met. A Miley Cyrus song I can’t stand. I am a bit personally invested in being bitter towards her as during a study abroad trip to England in college I was once asked if I was Miley Cyrus.
I’ve never been to LAX and actually don’t own a cardigan that fits me properly… but for a tiny space of time, at the center of a small stage, Miley and I connected. I think.
My husband and I took our first trip together to commemorate one year of marriage. In that one year, we have graduated from college, started new jobs, had extended hospital stays and… what am I missing…
Oh yeah, the baby.
Although we are broke, and although our poor baby has yet to get into a routine because of how much we travel on the weekends, we decided to take some time for just the two of us. I felt an intense need to re-discover why I had gone through all of the pain and difficulties marriage and parenthood bring.
Jamaica was beautiful. We mostly camped out at our resort, the simple pleasure of sunshine being enough to entertain us most days. Sand crabs littered the beaches. Warm saltwater stung our lips. The breeze never ceased, allowing us to stay outside for long periods of time. We laughed, we explored, we acted like two people discovering love. My husband, in the charming gesture of a gentleman, went to put his arm around me on a romantic bus ride back from a long day of snorkeling. I was reminded of the newness and excitement of a first date… Until his elbow collided with my nose, giving me a pretty good bruise.
I guess it’s been a while.
There are times in my marriage when I feel like giving up. Times when I question every life choice I’ve ever made, times when I wonder why I bother trying because I can’t seem to do anything right. I am ashamed to admit it, since I know my husband and child deserve better, but I just don’t always have the confidence to know that I can do this. To know that being a wife and a mom is what I am supposed to be at this point in my life.
“Something stops me every time, the DJ plays my song and I’ll be alri-i-ight!”
It’s not a Jay-Z song that stops me. It’s not even Britney (although that would be closer). As I sang that stupid song during Karaoke on our last night in Jamaica, looking out at my husband who was laughing at my extreme dorkiness, wondering if Brady was in bed 1500 miles away, I realized what does.