That Girl

This morning at 6am when I sat in a dimly lit living room, hair askew in a badly misshapen ponytail, wrinkled PJs not doing a great job of disguising my post-baby belly, a coffe pot that sat empty and cold because I had forgotten to fill and preset it the night before, an almost 22 month old loudly saying everyone's name he could think of from his crib, and a sweet three week old baby girl in my arms happily gulping down a bottle I wasn't planning on her needing until at least 7am (once I had showered, dried my hair, put on make-up, and fetched her brother his morning apple juice), I found myself wishing I was "that girl ".

Who is that girl, you might ask. This morning, "That Girl" was me at 21, a senior in college. This morning "that girl" seemed very appealing because her Friday morning involved sleeping in until 9:30am, likely because the night before she has persuaded someone to go to Whattaburger at 11pm sharp for a taquito or had stayed up with this girl watching a Road Rules Marathon. Her To-Do list for the day involved such things as attending 11am chapel (the only school requirement I had on Fridays during the spring semester of my Senior year--Nice!), eating lunch with the roomies at Hickory Street Cafe, perhaps an impromptu visit to the illustrious Mall of Abilene, an afternoon workout/social hour at the gym, sitting on the couch watching Oprah with the roomies, and then whatever social event we had planned for the evening. As I sat on my couch this morning, struggling to read the clock on the VCR because I had not managed to grab my glasses off my nightstand before fumbling around in the dark to find and console the crying baby, I really wished I was 21 at the moment rather than 30 and my biggest responsibility was making sure the rent check was in the mail each month (which I one time mailed without a stamp which almost resulted in disaster and did result in a hefty overnight mail charge to avoid eviction--our landlord was not very tolerant).

However, had I been "that girl" today I would have missed out on my 22 month old attempting to stand on one leg while licking lotion off the opposite knee which resulted in a quite dramatic and hilarious fall. I would have missed seeing my three week's old first attempts at a smile when I tickle her second chin. I would have missed being parked at a stoplight, windows down, radio blaring and see the guy in the car next to me smile and then watch his smile quickly fade as he noticed the two car seats in the back and realized that all though the radio was blaring it was playing an upbeat rendition of "Mary Had a Little Lamb" (this caused me to laugh outloud, especially since I think this was a high school kid). I would have missed sending a spur of the moment email to one of those old college roomies that happened to be read at a moment when she needed a pick-me-up. I would have missed seeing a 22 month old covered in sand, finding joy in the discovery of a stick in our backyard. I would have missed wondering if the new straight leg Bermuda shorts are the new mom jeans (I am still pondering this one every time I see my reflection in the mirror--are they stylish or just an answer to the cellulite wars?). I would have missed giggling over the supper table with my husband each time our son referred to the tortilla he was eating as a "tete". I would have missed the brief moment of panic when my husband and I thought that our son's polo romper was not going to come off over his head (it did).

Although today started off with me wishing I was the 21 year old version of myself for a brief moment, I am ending the day relishing in the fact that I am in this exact place of life. I am also ending the day exactly as that 21 year old girl did nine years ago, sitting around listening to music and talking to a cute brown haired boy. It is nice to know that some things never change.