Confession time: I’m not that great with change. Sure, the concept of change is exciting and refreshing. I get easily bored and love the idea of a big old switcheroo in life’s happenings. In theory. Did you catch that? I n T h e o r y. Which means, in Mindy-speak, I like the idea of change but break out in cold sweats and armpit rings at actual change. And trust me, that is not a good look for me.
Example 1: Getting married. Okay, I had found my life’s partner. I was madly, passionately in love. The thought of walking down a church aisle with hundreds of eyes trained in on the beauty that was going to be me sent the really good kind of shivers down my spine. Yada Yada Yada. But I absolutely loathed the idea of changing what Jer and I had perfected, pre-cohabitative bliss. We were great at “not” living together. Sure, we spent most every night at my place or his (um, mom, so we were like playing a lot of Uno and stuff) but we didn’t officially cohabitate. And I liked it. He didn’t. We got married. I sweat through my wedding dress. Thankfully it was white and full of beading, which I quickly learned worked as a stellar distraction from dampening armpits. Thank God.
Example 2: Having kids. Once I resigned myself to “married life” and was able to accept my new normal (and consequently wean myself off of what had become nightly Jaegermeister shots) it was time for the natural progression into motherhood. Which, wasn’t quite so natural for me. Why? Because I didn’t really like kids. I thought they were cute, and I had developed a tiny little Auntie crush on my nephews and nieces but was ever so relieved when they went home to their parents and I went home to a house that didn’t require baby gates or plug-in guards. I liked things to be as they were and really saw no need to change anything. Until I got bit. You know the culprit. The baby bug. It bit me hard and the only way to heal the wound…have a baby. Which I did. In fact, ultimately, I had two. But the fact remained the same with each pregnancy. I feared the change. (And, little known fact, you’re not supposed to drink Jaegermeister while pregnant OR nursing, so there went that coping mechanism.)
Note: I love my kids and can’t imagine life without their tiny little good-smelling heads. I can, however, imagine life without stretch marks and KidzBop cds.
Now on to Example 3. Jer recently accepted a new position with an online advertising company as their Director of Content Syndication. And, no, I’m not entirely sure what that entails but as far as I understand they will be paying him to do it. Insert sweating armpits here. My hubby had worked for his previous employer for nearly 17 years. Is that not the perfect scenario for a change-a-phobe? Unfortunately, Jer does not suffer from such an affliction. In fact, he’s all for change. This explains the marriage proposal (remind me to tell you that story some day) and some good old-fashioned conceiving (I’ll keep those stories to myself.) So, when Jer was offered a job in a new field with a whole bunch of possibilities he jumped at the chance to take it while my feet desired to stay safely planted on the ground. But, like the other examples listed above, I’ve learned that although change makes my glands spritz sweat like a gardenvariety sprinkler it also brings about good things. I’ll just need to add a double layer of deodorant to my armpits.
Edited to Add: One thing that definitely will not change is Jer’s butt sitting twenty-feet away from me. All day. Every. Single. Day. He will still be working from home and I will still be pinching his tiny head between my fingers when he’s not looking. Wish us luck. No. Wish him luck.