What I Want

I want to spend my days knitting, baking cupcakes, sewing dresses for my girls, homeschooling, writing, and generally being crafty and clever and amazing (like Amanda and Jane and Alicia) and I also want to have a busy and important career that requires me to put on makeup and a dress and go into Manhattan every morning, child-free.

I want to work at home with Tom, collaborating on brilliant graphic novels which I write and he illustrates, and have lunch together and bounce ideas off each other all day (like Joan Didion and John Gregory Dunne) but I also kind of want at least one of us to leave the house and go to a "real job" every day because I'm afraid if we don't, we will chafe on each other until every last ounce of love and passion is gone from our marriage.

I want to live in SoHo or the East Village (very tiny very expensive apartments), no wait - I want to live in Brooklyn Heights or Boerum Hill (expensive again) and I want to have another baby (no, I don't, yes, I do, no, I don't) and I never want to go through the hell of moving again. So I guess I want to buy the apartment we're living in now so we can stay here forever. Except where will the new baby go? Oh wait, we're not having one.

I want to be an attached parent and nurse my girl for as long as she wants, but I also want to be able to leave her with a sitter so that Tom and I can go explore Manhattan as grown-ups.

I want to concentrate on appreciating the things I have and stop stressing out about things I think I want but which would actually not make me happy. Because actually, I am happy. I'm very happy. What the hell is wrong with me, anyway? I'm such a whiner.

New York is great. I'm great. I think I just needed to leave the apartment today, but the big girl wanted to chill at home all day, and I gave in to her because sometimes I think she should get to call the shots, even if it makes me crazy. I'll get out tomorrow.