I asked my partner, E (pictured with me above), a scary question the other night: “What do you want to do before we have kids?” He half-laughed, half-groaned and didn’t answer me. I let the subject drop. To be fair, we’d been watching the new episodes of Gilmore Girls Netflix just released and I was teary-eyed and emotional and it was late and there were basically no good reasons for us to have that conversation at that time.
Additionally, E finds talking about the future stressful, which is fair. I’m pretty sure the future is objectively stressful. And yet… that doesn’t stop me from thinking about it all the time. I’m often setting goals, making plans, running scenarios, trying things, daydreaming. Some of it is productive, some of it is healthy, and some of it is probably bad for me. I’m not as present as I’d like to be. I’m working on it.
I feel like I should just end this post on that note: “I’m working on being more present, and in the present moment it’s time for bed.” And yet… I have an answer to the question I asked E. At least, I have this week’s answer. Before I have kids, I want to travel more. I want to take another big trip, whether it’s backpacking or WWOOFing or housesitting or teaching English abroad. And I hope E will come with me. And I hope we’ll have fun. And then I hope we’ll have kids. And I hope we’ll still have fun. And I hope we’ll still travel. And, and, and. I hope, I hope, I hope.
And, in the present moment, it’s time for bed.