Aug 1st, 2012 by Jennifer Lynn
Is it weird that I’m laying in bed browsing financial forums on my iPod, with my daughter snuggled peacefully beside me, napping.
All of my friends tip-toe around the subject of personal finance. They find it a wee uncomfortable and pretty snooz-y, and yet I can spend hours devouring material and crunching numbers in my head. My favorite part about receiving a regular paycheck was the anticipation of squirreling some away — what percentage should I contribute to my savings this week? 15%? 35%?
I loved nurturing and observing my flimsy savings as it bulked up and blossomed.
Now, i feel a bit lost.
It has been an unfamiliar adjustment for me to abandon a consistent paycheck, in order to remain at home with Lexi. She has been my whole world for a year now.
But on days when I’m frustrated and doubting myself, or trying to slog through yet another afternoon, and can feel the ‘stay-at-home’ mommy blues creeping on, Lexi will wriggle over to hoist herself into my lap and peek up at me with, you know, that look in her eyes; a twinkle, a glittering spark, which makes my heart go all ache-y.
That pure, unfettered joy. Gazing straight at me.
And by ache-y, I mean, like, trillions of butterflies smashing/crackling, like smeared speckled cherries, all over on the windshield of my soul, trailing rainbow-colored guts.
Man, I want to sell that down at the 7-Eleven and pound it like a slurpee, her pure, unfettered joy. And as her tiny body quivers, it oozes from her pores like sweet sugar sunshine’s banana pudding. And her fingers, like tiny chubby mushrooms, grapple at my hair, jam into a nostril, jab at an eyeball — it’s that sensation of being cloaked in absolute sweet unspitefulness.
And then everything feels surreal and I wouldn’t change a damn thing, not ever.
Because in those blissful and quiet moments of clarity, I’m precisely where I belong. Curled up in bed with my sweet butter bean.