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In the movie Lost in Translation there is a scene in which Bill Murray's character explains that, upon having your first child, "your life as you know it is gone...never to return." The movie has been one of my favorites for years. I just wish that I had known he meant my life.

In early 2010, I gave birth to the world's most perfect child. (Is there a parent who doesn't think his/her child is the world's most perfect?) In addition to being beautiful, he is brilliant and sweet and funny and hands-down the best thing that will ever happen to me. This kid is my entire world. I had somehow suspected through most of my life that he would be, which is why I fought very hard to have him. But about the post-childbirth apocalypse, I had absolutely no clue.

To say things have changed would be misleading. EVERYTHING has changed. Most of it has been good--some not so great--but everything is without a doubt different. And now the world changes once again. My little family and I find ourselves journeying from the big city to beautiful, calm Montana. Will the change be for the better? As with anything, the answer is sometimes "yes," sometimes "no," and always sought with massive quantities of hope. Come with me as I navigate the roads from fast-paced, big-city lawyer to Montana Momhood. Is there a line that can be walked? We'll see. But I can guarantee, at a minimum, it will be an adventurous road trip....

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

What Do You Think?

I have always been fascinated by people who care what other people think.  This is primarily because I am one of them.  I hate this fact.  Particularly lately, after finding relatively few acquaintances who were willing to help me out when I needed it (friends and family were an ENTIRELY different story), it really irritates me that I still find myself caring whether others "like me" or not. 

Why do we do this?  For example, last weekend a small group of friends and I got dressed up for a bachelorette party.  We donned rather spectacular (if I may say so) 80s garb and headed out on the town.  I do have to say that living through a number of decades has significantly tempered my embarrassment level--I had no problems dressing up in the first place.  But I did find myself noticing the looks and, although it disappeared quickly, I felt the color rise in my cheeks momentarily.  Why, exactly?  I don't really know anyone here.  And even if I did, why would I care?  Judgement for something as insignificant as having fun shouldn't even give me a second thought.  It irked me that I even noticed. 

So tell me--why do we care so much what other people think?  I find myself trying to explain to people why I don't have an "official" job, as though I have something for which to apologize.  I practice entire speeches in my head for the next person who comments, ever so slightly, on my parenting.  I preface discussing any purchases I make with a disclaimer of how much they were on sale.  How is any of the above anyone's concern?

So tell me, folks, why do we care?  Should we?  Does it keep us in line?  Or is it only harmful?  And tell me the truth--do you like me?  Are my clothes ok?  Am I doing ok with my child?  Why aren't you answering?
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