Somewhere Else, Sometimes

Do you ever daydream about the life you could have lived?

The alternative lives, the what-ifs, the choices you could have made that would have led you somewhere completely different from where you are today?

Because I do. A million times, yes.

It’s not that I dislike my life or regret the decisions I’ve made.

But don’t you sometimes picture yourself somewhere else?

Maybe instead of standing in the kitchen, washing bottles with dried milk and scraping berries off the floor, you’re in a vineyard in Italy, living a slow life as a full-time artist.

Your mornings start with fresh bread, your afternoons are for cherry picking with an Aperol spritz, and your evenings end with handmade pasta under the stars.

Or maybe you’re that girlboss with the corner office, fresh blowout, flying out for international meetings, attending brand launches, and spending nights out with friends before heading back to a chic apartment all to yourself.

(And to the moms who are living this while being moms too, good for you. No jealousy here, just love.)

But for most of us, it’s different.

I can’t even complain about having a velcro baby, because I’m the velcro mommy.

I stopped my studies, passed on the idea of a full-time job, weighed down by mom guilt and the thought of leaving my little one with daycare or anyone else. My world stopped spinning the moment his started.

I wake and sleep for my child, and only my child.

I breastfeed at night. I play with him in the afternoon. I feed him, read to him, run around with him, bathe him, and put him to bed. My entire being is tied to his every moment.

Yes, I take some part-time work once or twice a week, but four hours is my limit. By then, I crave his warmth so much that I rush home as fast as I can.

Even when I’m out with friends, I check my watch over and over. I can’t stay in the moment, because I feel the pull of a baby waiting for me.

So this is for the moms—moms who do everything they can for their children but still want the world to know that we are human too. Even if we chose to live inside our babies’ worlds, we still long to be someone else sometimes.

We want to join the latest trends.

(God forbid low-rise jeans actually fit our mom hips.)

We want to know what’s happening in pop culture.

(God forbid Miss Rachel is the only one on our screen.)

We want to try new diets.

(God forbid all we eat is our baby’s leftover soup, a yogurt on the go, and cold coffee in between.)

We want to travel to the best vacation spots.

(God forbid going to the grocery already feels like a trip.)

We want to go out with our friends.

(God forbid we can’t even catch up on who they’re dating because bedtime is at 8 p.m.)

We try. We really do.

But the truth is, the world doesn’t fit us anymore.

Our world has stopped spinning.

Maybe one day, when our kids are older, we’ll find our way back. Back to date nights where we feel beautiful again instead of defaulting to stained shirts and stretched-out pants. Back to nights out that don’t feel forced.

Maybe when the fridge isn’t covered with alphabet magnets, when the floor isn’t covered in toys, maybe then we’ll find our way out.

And when we do, maybe we’ll also find our way back. Back to our old selves, or maybe forward into new versions of us. Versions that still hold the dreams we once had, but with a deeper kind of wisdom.

But for now, mommas, just look out the window for five minutes. Or close your eyes.

In another world, while our babies sleep beside us, we’re sipping piña coladas under the Greek sun, toes buried in the sand, as the deep blue sea stretches endlessly ahead.