>Tales of a 32-Year-Old Nothing

It was time for bed, but I wasn’t quite ready to go to sleep. I grabbed my iPod, laid down and popped in my earbuds, excited about having a few minutes to myself to listen to my music without babies crying or teenagers trying to pop out my Feist and pop in their StellaStarr without me noticing.

A Butterfly Boucher song ended and Brandi Carlisle came on, sounding seamless and confident. I stared at the ceiling, listening. She sounded like I wanted to feel: self assured, creative, unique. Yes! It dawned on me that I was spending way too much time slogging through daily life, doing dishes, folding laundry, spoon feeding baby mush, mopping floors, and not enough time nurturing my creative side. I needed to come up with a new writing project, one that would give my life real purpose, beyond raising kids.

“Oh, Lord, what can I say?” Brandi crooned. “I’m so sad since you went away…” Brandi’s not afraid, I thought. I shouldn’t be afraid, either! I need to go out on a limb and create something fresh and new. But what? What?

Suddenly, a plan began to form in my mind. Yes! That was it! The idea I’d been searching for! First, I’d… wait, the song was ending. I fumbled for the reverse button and turned up the volume. Now where was I? Oh, yeah, that perfect idea. All I had to do was…

From beside me, Hubs cleared his throat. I looked over at him, and saw that his eyes were open. Immediately, I hit ‘pause.’

“I’m sorry, can you hear this?” I whispered.

“It’s really loud,” he said.

“Oh. I’m sorry. I’ll turn it off.”

Brandi was silenced, my fabulous, life-changing idea lost forever.

Just another day in the life of a 32-year-old would-have-been.

This post originally appeared in Parents.com.