Tuesday, January 20, 2015
Letter To My Younger Self
I know there are many things you think you won’t do/say/think and a few that you shouldn’t but will anyway. I am here to tell you what to expect.
You will pay money for a crappy apartment/house with a landlord who is most likely a drug addict. Thanks for funding his habit.
You will make the unfortunate decision to drink bottom shelf tequila straight – and then allow your parents to witness the aftermath.
You will spend your 21st birthday crying into a bottle of cheap red wine because you’ve discovered that alcohol does not lead to happiness. At least not cheap alcohol.
You will maintain a string of “friends” with questionable judgment before realizing that life is too short to follow the crowd. Or waste time repeatedly stealing drunk people’s keys.
You will get married and come to realize that the distant relative at your wedding who told you that the first year is the hardest didn’t know what they were talking about.
You will come to realize that most people who offer you unsolicited advice don’t know what they are talking about.
You will fake a headache to avoid having sex.
You will get annoyed with your husband and then with yourself because you can’t stay mad at him.
You will go through ups and downs, job losses and promotions, and a neighbor who is most likely a drug addict. What, do you attract them or something?
You will get pregnant. You will turn into THAT insufferable pregnant woman. You will throw a television remote at your husband and cry in front of a very uncomfortable air conditioner repair man all thanks to hormones.
You will have a baby. You will subsequently decide that your baby is perfect, you have it all figured out, and YOUR child will NEVER throw a tantrum in a crowded Babies R Us.
You will drag your tantruming child out of a crowded Babies R Us. You will subsequently decide to have no more children
You will have another child.
You will sleep less than you believed humanly possible.
You will survive a pregnancy loss.
You will allow your children to watch television in exchange for thirty minutes of peace.
You will laugh in the face of the Academy of Pediatrics dire warnings about screen time before two.
You will allow your five-year-old to wear his boots with his shorts in the middle of August because you have learned that picking your battles is essential to surviving this parenting thing.
You will yell, “STOP YELLING!!!! MOMMY HAS A HEADACHE!!!” at your children. Your husband will want to have sex that night.
You will forgo a shower for sleep because, meh, you showered yesterday.
Your mother in law will see your uncleaned house and your unwashed hair.
Random old ladies in the Target checkout line will scold you for not dressing your kids warmly enough, dressing them too warmly, and taking them out in this weather. You will silently congratulate yourself for not committing murder.
You will own a closet full of torn, stained clothes but lack the motivation or money to buy new ones.
Your will be grateful when your sister in law gets you out of your mom jeans. Thanks, Jan!
You will choose to stay home with your kids and field questions such as, “Oh, so you don’t have a job?” and “So what do you DO all day?” You will handle these questions gracefully while mentally slashing the tires of the asker.
You will be amazed by working moms, and you will realize that they have to field their own rude questions.
You will be dumped by friends and never know why.
You will learn that fair-weather friends were never friends to begin with.
You will spend the aftermath of your baby’s second birthday party crying into a bottle of cheap red wine because your baby is two. And you are still drinking cheap alcohol.
You will survive many trials and come out a better person. You will learn that life is fluid. You will learn to appreciate the little things. You will learn which relationships are worth saving and which need to be let go. You will learn that even the darkest nights give way to sunrise.
When all else fails, you will drink your brother and sister in law’s expensive red wine.
A Letter To My Older Self
While my sister-in-law wrote a letter to her younger self I decided to write a letter to my older self and it goes like this:
Your name is Jan and it’s not short for anything, so don’t think it’s because you just can’t remember your full name – it’s just plain Jan (thanks to your sister who named you when she was five). You have a husband and three kids (hopefully they have kids which would mean you have grandkids – yes, you’re old, deal with it!).
You love to travel – keep it up and see as much of this beautiful world if you can.
You should have had more friends, but you were too busy to make it a priority. On the bright side, you will have fewer funerals to attend.
Tough beans if you don’t like the person your son or daughter marries. If they make your son or daughter happy and treat them well then be happy for them – even if it’s painfully hard.
When you are a grandparent, your only job is to spoil them rotten and send them home.
Do not tell your children how to raise their children – it’s their turn to be the meanest parents in the whole wide world and to make mistakes – like I said, all you have to do is spoil them.
Never yell at your grandchildren. It’s not your place, and you don’t want them to be pissed at you. They may be the only ones who come and visit you in the loony bin.
Never give advice to those not seeking it.
If, at your age, you can’t see your glass as at least half full, you are not someone I want to hang out with.
Do not share your bodily functions, or your inability to control them with your children, grandchildren or people at a party – no one wants to know these things. While you may think it’s just being honest and open, you are reminding your children that you are old, and let’s face it, if they love you, that reminder will be painful.
Stop your worrying – you made it this far, sit back, relax and enjoy the rest of the ride.
Don’t save your money to eventually pass down to your kids – spend it all and let them earn their own.
If you wear granny panties, I’m very disappointed in you.
If you become extremely opinionated, keep it to yourself and if you can’t, at least respect other’s opinions with grace.
Don’t ever expect your children to take care of you – they shouldn't feel obligated to stop living their life to take care of you, and never make them feel guilty about it.
No amount of face cream is going to wipe away those wrinkles so just stop already!
I tried very hard to keep that body of yours in shape – keep it up!
Drink in moderation. Oh hell, you’re old so drink as much as you want – you've earned it!
You are very blessed. Make sure you continue to show God how grateful you are for all that you have, (even if you can’t hear, see or carry on a lucid conversation).