I have a change addiction. Not change like shiny quarters and pennies, but actual change, as in the verb. I find myself always working towards the next big thing. In my 20’s it was easy. Change came around every year or so. A new apartment, a new job, an engagement, a wedding – I was reveling in what life had to offer and embracing new adventures annually. Once we were married, changing partners was off the table, so it was a change of scene. We bought our first house and a year later we bought our second house. It was such a high counting down the days until the landscape of my life shifted dramatically.
Once we moved into the second house, the market plummeted and house-hopping was no longer a responsible thing to do. So what would the next year bring? Babies. Changing it up every year was easy – get pregnant, raise the kid, get pregnant again, raise two kids. Most people would feel perfectly content at this point, but nooo, not us. Off to get a new house….again.
I take full responsibility for most decisions in our life. My husband is always on board, but I push us off each cliff. I can feel it coming and before I know it, I’ve uncovered something new for us to start working towards. I started to panic after we were settled in this last house. I loved my job, I loved our new house, the boys were great…now what? Obviously a dog. A year after the dog, I got the itch again and convinced myself (and my husband) that we needed a third child. And off we went, getting pregnant. It wasn’t until we lost that pregnancy that my change addiction caught up with me. We were sad – we truly were excited and had embraced the idea of a third child. But as we walked out of the doctor’s office, a strange feeling of relief came over me. It was like the universe had stopped me in my tracks and gave me an out – pushed me back a step and told me to sit tight. So I did what any reasonable woman would do in that situation – told my husband to get a vasectomy. And he did what any reasonable man would – he got one.
I thought that was the grand finale of my change addiction. I started baking pies, and was content. Until a year passed and I felt that familiar feeling – I was on the cliff and so I jumped into a new job. Not four months had passed after starting my new job and I was on the edge again, laying down on the ground hanging my head over searching for exciting things below. I tried to get us on board with adoption – I even sat in on a webinar about adopting from the Ukraine. But my husband had the sense to draw the line and not give in to my pleas for an international baby. As a compromise, he resurrected an idea that we had years ago to start hosting exchange students when the boys were old enough. Sold! I threw myself into researching the process and I kid you not, we were matched with a 15 year old girl from Germany within one week. She’s coming in a month and we are so excited. What a fun adventure we are all in for!
About 12 years have passed since I first took notice of my addiction to change. Looking back over what I have acquired through jumping off cliffs, I am grateful for it all. I think it’s time to reframe this addiction I have. Rather than feeling like it’s unhealthy to always be seeking change, I’m going to regard my life as a constant state of forward motion. A forward motion that propels us to to the next adventure and uncovers excitement, joy and shapes what is the life we call ours. If the past 12 years have brought 6 pregnancies, 3 houses, 3 jobs, 2 kids, 1 dog and 1 exchange student, I cannot wait to see what the next 12 have to offer.
One thing that has not changed? Pie. And boy do I have a good pie to share with you.
Pie Eyed 