Okay, Batman, it's not THAT bad. We still managed to throw a kick-ass party for our kick-ass friends a few weekends ago (the notorious LOTR Bowl, wherein the extended versions of all three Lord of the Rings movies are marathoned, back to back, with strategically timed snacks and meals that line up with or playfully complement whatever is happening in the films), and we're still planning to host a New Year's get-together. Even if it's tamer than usual, it will involve a slew of our favorite people descending upon us for a few days, there will be consumption of adult beverages (not by me, obviously), and there is an excellent chance that I will manage to stay awake until midnight.
Still, I'm already starting to feel awkward about our not-just-being-boring-adults-ness. We revel in grocery shopping because it is just so damn soothing; what's better than exploring options for what to eat, then picking out components for a meal, then getting to take everything home with the knowledge that you soon get to turn all that goodness into yummy dinner? We spend inordinate amounts of time hunting around for furniture, obscure home efficiency goods and accessories, and weird gifts for family and friends. Seriously; we'll clock hours stalking around the mall (ew), downtown Portland (yay!), random local businesses, and anywhere else we can think of looking for the perfect....whatever we're looking for...and neither give up nor compromise, regardless of whether we need to keep searching later or not. I think we probably spent three or four different shopping trips trying to find a kitchen island before essentially giving up and waiting for something to magically appear. (One did, incidentally: a coworker was getting rid of the custom-built piece that is now in our kitchen, and he just handed it off for free.) It's not even that we enjoy shopping that much; your Dad's blood pressure tends to skyrocket when we're exposed to the godawful behavior most people practice in places of commerce, and I frequently get distracted by other things we don't need to buy, then grow despondent when I realize we can't afford much of anything other than the item we intended to buy, and often not even that. We do, however, LOVE finding the thing we set out for at a good price, so it's definitely worth the effort. Plus, the more effort it takes, the sweeter the victory.
Really, I'm not worried - at all - about your Dad and I losing our playfulness and love for the generally silly and absurd. After realizing this week that my energy level just doesn't accommodate much in the way of shared activities, we came to the conclusion that the obvious solution was to buy a fun collaborative video game for us to play together instead of just watching TV and movies every evening. Thus your Dad picked up "Lego Star Wars: The Complete Saga" for our Wii, and we've been slaying droids and hunting down Sith all week. Still...we spend basically every evening and spare weekend chunk of time either in the pursuit of food, cleanliness, or relaxation. I guess we've jumped into the new parent creature-comfort-pursuit mode early...?
Batman, I can promise we'll still do fun things out of the house - and in it - once you show up. I'm so exhausted most of the time now that I'm having a hard time envisioning us as one of those dynamic families that wanders around every local craft fair and festival, spends weekends exploring all over the darn place, and happily partners up with other dynamic and energetic families to do exciting and magical things. I'm sure we'll have our moments, but I'm also weirdly grateful that you'll need us to take life at a slightly slower pace; I think that's always been our speed.