One day, I was living alone in an apartment. The next day, I woke up in a house with a husband and three children. A family. My own family.
How did that happen?
In three years – three short years – I became the other half of a pair who produced twin hobbits and a newborn mutant. The other party, legally known as Jeff Peter Ruffolo, was smiling when I shared the timeline of how this family came into fruition.
It started with a virtual smile; a smile that the entity, Jeff, sent to yours truly, which yours truly responded with another smile. Yours truly didn’t think much about the smile exchange, online flirtation is nothing but a fleeting fad, which is in the same level as the first blind date when the male subject throws jokes hoping to be funny and the female subject giggles in response even if the jokes were obviously convoluted and juvenile, not to mention awkward and rehashed.
What started as a mere digital exchange progressed into an Asian rendezvous that led to a committed relationship, endless trips, marriage, and now a family of five.
Who would ever thought that that woman who lived solo in that apartment a few years ago will be writing this piece while nursing her third child with thoughts of waking up her husband because she wants to talk about migraine and diabetes?
I’m not at my best these days. I’m still battling postpartum depression which I haven’t really addressed with full attention. But I acknowledge – as I previously had – that I am depressed and that I am seeking help to get better.
Depression, which I hope to delve more deeply in another entry, is not cool. I don’t like it. It’s not a goos=d companion as the weather gets colder. It’s not the great to have it when you’re nursing a newborn, managing toddlers, and working on graduate studies. It messes the way you think and feel.
But… Im very grateful that I have this family. This family that makes me insane in the same way that it keeps me sane. Do you realize, as I did, how ironic that is?
How challenging it is to manage a family?
Just like any job, I suppose.
It’s demanding and innocuous. The kind that makes you smile and frown. The type that will force you to exercise mental alertness and physical agility. An organization in which you render service in the company of poopy diapers, messy dishes, loads of laundry, unending bills, overworked vacuum, and crayon-vandalized walls.
Crazy.
But family is family.
Some days I like to go back to that solo life in that apartment. Most days, I’m happy in being part of this basic unit of society.
It’s great to belong to one.
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T30WC or The 30-minute Writing Challenge is a writing exercise born out of this blogger’s need to maintain a habit of writing. Subjects of each writing challenge is just about anything but should ONLY be written within 30 minutes.
