In my kitchen, again.

No matter how happy you are, no matter how much you live the life you believe in your heart that you want, there are moments that you look at the door and think “I could just walk out. Right now I would like to just walk right out the door.”

Not forever.  Just for the morning.  And not because you aren’t happy, just because occasionally it feels like you live in the movie Groundhog Day  –  “Well, what if there is no tomorrow? There wasn’t one today.” I walked in to the kitchen this morning wearing my winter uniform (velour jogging suit and a tank top) just as I did the day before.  And likely just as I will tomorrow.

“I am not making breakfast.  I feel like all I ever do is cook food and clean it up.  All day.”

If you live across the street from your best friend than you can put on a baseball hat, grab a cup of coffee and walk out the door.  Thirty seconds later I was standing in a different kitchen with only one of my children, drinking coffee and bullshitting about absolutely  nothing in the way that only women can.

Sitting at her kitchen table I can just sit.  I don’t have to fold her laundry, though I have. I don’t have to let her dogs in and out ten times, though I can yell at them for barking.   Somehow her kids and their incredible loudness is funny to me, almost entertaining.  It’s a change of scenery and sometimes that is all I need.  I don’t long for a new life, I just want to live it in a different kitchen for an hour.

I walked back in the house feeling good.  “I emptied the dishwasher and I washed out the casserole pan from last night,” sad MQD.  A good man picks up your slack.  I could have thanked him.  Or given him shit for reporting to me like he was a kid deserving of a gold star.

Instead I just smiled and said “That’s it?”

There is a changing of the guard that takes place between parents.  I had been “off duty” and I was clocking back in, I could feel it.  I was getting the full report of the status of things and he was checking out.  When you take away a man’s man cave and make it in to a guest room/baby room you can expect him to lock himself in the bathroom for an hour on Saturday morning.

We listen to Spotify all day from the desktop in the kitchen.  There is always music in our house.  Always.  I was on the couch in the living room, laptop perched on my knees, coffee just out of reach of the little one.  “I found a new artist you might like.  You should listen to them.  When you get your ass back in to the kitchen,” he said.  That smirk of his is going to save his ass a thousand times over.

This morning I had a moment when I thought it was hell on earth to relive the same day over and over again. Two hours later and I am smiling ear to ear.  Bring it on, Winter.  I am going to wear this velour sweatsuit every day.  I am going to wear this hat every day.  I am going to stand in my kitchen and think about what we are going to eat next only moments after cleaning up from the previous meal.  And I am digging the ever-loving shit out of it, yes, I am.

Life isn’t that complicated. Living the same day over and over again gives you the chance to get it right, eventually.  It’s not even 11 o’clock in the morning and I feel like I have this day by the balls.  What’s up, Saturday? Wanna feel my sweat suit? This is what Happy feels like.  Sorry about the coffee breath, you’ll get used to it.

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Keep: This grey hat that will henceforth be known as The Hat I Wore All Winter While I Grew Out That Shitty Haircut

Trash: A handful of stretched out rubber bands and nasty bobby pins from the bottom of the hair accoutrements  catch all drawer in the bathroom.

Donate: A pile of headbands to Emily June, because this Winter is the Winter of the Hat not the Headband.  I have decided.

 

20 responses to “In my kitchen, again.

  1. I love that you’re taking your happiness into your own hands. I’m very slowly working towards that after years of being completely out of control. I love your spirit. You’re a badass.

  2. Oh, lady. I read this post (while sporting my eerily similar winter uniform) and avoiding wiping the counters because I’m trying to prove my passive agressive point that I am not a cleaning machine. Totally nodded and had a feminist “Sock it to the man! Don’t touch that dishwasher!” moment because I’ve felt this way many, many times!

  3. I love this! And love how you embrace when things are same during the days :) Also, super jels that you live next door to your bff! That’s now my future life-plan!

    • It was pretty amazing. We were looking for a house and I saw the listing online, fell in love with the house and then realized it was across the street from her. Pretty absurd really. I love it.

  4. I have been saying for years that I feel like the “it’s time to make the doughnuts” guy! Lol. One of the reasons I got my motorcycle license, & am considering trying out roller derby. :)

  5. Shut up, I was just thinking how cute your haircut has been. And I, too, have felt myself clock back into the same Groundhog Day. Sigh, I love Bill Murray.

  6. You champion that Velour suit girl. OWN IT!!!!! I love that movie Groundhog Day!!!!

  7. I’m liking both the hat and the haircut. Either one shows that you have Winter by the balls.

  8. This is fantastic. Be happy in the moment – good advice. You’re welcome to hang out in my kitchen, and I won’t make you fold laundry :)

  9. 100% BRILLIANT. There is no doubt.
    You’re welcome….

  10. Cathy *above* speaks true words…..100% true words.

  11. Kelly,
    You’re such a brilliant writer. And this post speaks to me of the choices to take care of yourself, feel in the moment and be happy when the occasion arises. Like the hat…
    Cathy

    • Thank you. You are obviously very wise, since you recognize my brilliance. ;) It is a choice to be happy. I remind myself of this daily. Have a great day, Cathy. I appreciate your feedback. -k

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