A House Divided

This weekend as I was cruising down the supermarket aisle with Husband, I began having a spasm attack. No need to worry; it wasn’t painful. It was more of a mental crackdown that went something like this:

Husband: Jen, do you want to get the eggs and bacon or the chicken and avocado?
Me: Huh?
Husband: Eggs or chicken? Which do you want to get?
Me (tossing my head down to the cart being totally over the top dramatic): neither. I don’t want to get neither.
Husband: ok, Jen. You get the eggs and bacon (➵ let’s just say he’s used to this kind of mental crackdown.)

At this point, I should give you the details that led to this event. It started an hour earlier when I received this text:

You should come to the Belinda Carlsle concert with me.

And then these are how the next few texts followed:

So I have to say that I kinda wanted to go. Before I was Married Mommy Jen, I was Young Party Jen. Actually, I was Young Party Jen for longer than I have been Married Mommy Jen. I tel lyou this so that you could understand why sometimes I still act a bit selfish. So the Jen, formally known as Young Party wanted to go. I could feel that feeling of excitement when you don’t know what the night holds for you creeping in and Young Party Jen wanted to say Yes.

But Married Mommy Jen had been decorating, organizing, and doing dishes all day and had just spent the last hour looking for an area rug and was now food shopping for tonight’s dinner. That Jen, just wanted to watch a movie and drink a glass of wine. Ok. Two glasses of wine.

Looking for an easy out, I asked the deal breaking question:

What time does it start? 

This was my chance. She would say around 7:00 and since our kids are still so young it takes both parents to finagle bed time I would have to say Oh man. That’s the kids’ bed time and so I couldn’t be out of the house til at least 7:45, so I’m afraid I will have to decline. My decision would be made. But she responded:

9:00ish

Oof. Didn’t. See. That. Coming.

It would be super possible to get out of the house by 9:00. Now, it would be up to me, just me to make the decision. No easy deal breaker escape.

I was torn.

Husband: Jen, do you want to get the eggs and bacon or the chicken and avocado?
Me: Huh?
Husband: Eggs or chicken? Which do you want to get?

What was happening here wasn’t the deep considering of the chicken or the egg. What was happening here is that I was so consumed by both Jens that I couldn’t even understand what he was asking me.

See, I don’t think I really wanted to say yes. I think I wanted to say no but the old Jen – Young Party Jen – the one I’ve been for way longer than Married Mommy Jen – was remembering a time when she was free to make any decision she wanted without thinking about bath time and bed time and baby’s crying in the middle of the night and waking up early the next morning no matter how late you stayed out. For that Jen, life was easy. Say yes. Have fun. Come home. Sleep late. 

And even though I think I wanted to say no, there was something about saying no that was making me anxious. In even thinking about saying no I felt like I was spiraling out of control, like I was losing myself; losing the girl that used to say yes and that used to be down for any adventure. Because I never thought I wouldn’t be that girl – the one that said yes to adventures. The funny thing is, it’s not like I haven’t said no to plenty of things but for whatever reason, on this evening, this no was giving me a mental crackdown of epic proportions. Hence, adult tantrum:

Me (tossing my head down to the cart being totally over the top dramatic): neither. I don’t want to get either one.
Husband: ok, Jen. You get the eggs and bacon (➵ let’s just say he’s used to this kind of mental crackdown.)

When we were at the checkout counter I looked at Husband and as quickly as I could purged, “I-want-to-stay-home-and-watch-a-movie-with-you.” All one word.

So that’s why you’ve been acting like a crackpot? Husband laughed.

I tried to explain to him the complexity of my dualing ban-Jens. How they were tugging at me from both sides with atomic force; one wanted me to be Young Party at a concert and the other wanted me to be Married Mommy with a movie. I tried to explain this at the checkout counter. I’m sure the cashier was grateful that she didn’t understand English.

Husband wisdomed “A house divided cannot stand.”

Then I got a message from Single Fun Friend that read this: