No one packs me pickles…

the crew
My Crew

Yesterday at school (I’m a  Master’s student) a friend came into the room where a few of us were sitting and offered to us some homemade pickles. Being a huge pickle fan, I immediately took up the offer. Of course I asked who made the pickles. She said, “My dad. He packs me some everyday, but I’m not in the mood for them today.” I said, “Wait, your dad packs your lunch?” “Yup, ” she responded.

Sigh. There’s something quite nice about the thought of being taken care of, of someone packing my lunch for me, someone acting as the grown-up in my life so I wouldn’t  always have to fill that role. I’m older than most of my grad-school friends by about five to ten years;  Add to that the fact that I was thrust into adulthood when my mom passed away when I was 20,  and I realize, I’ve been taking care of myself and other people for a really long time.

It’s different for most of my friends. They are mostly still intimately connected to their parents. They are in this different sort of in-between stage where they are not quite grown-ups, but not quite kids. They are independent, but still being cared for in little ways that make a difference.

That in-between phase was never part of my existence. I got married young, just after turning 21, and started having babies shortly thereafter. By the time I was 29 I was the mother of 4 children. I’ve never had any regrets, but every now and again I long for the feeling of not having to captain the ship, not having to make the decisions. My husband and I have a really egalitarian marriage and, given my fiercely independent and fiery personality, it probably wouldn’t work any other way, but sometimes I long for someone to take the reins so that I can stop feeling like I have to take care of everyone else for a minute. Sometimes I’d like to call up my parents, particularly my mom, and just lay it all on her and let her tell me what to do.

Some days I wish someone would pack me pickles and send me off to my day and I could, for just a minute, breathe a sigh of relief knowing that if I flub the day someone will come to my rescue and be the grown-up. While I’m sure I wouldn’t want it that way all the time, and please understand that I know it isn’t like that in every situation for my friend, I think for a day or two every now and again it might be nice.


3 thoughts on “No one packs me pickles…”

  1. I suggest sharing this post with your husband, then give him the freedom to fuss over you… even if it’s not what you need that particular day.
    The roll of the masculine is to act from independence.
    The roll of the feminine is to receive through intimacy.
    You say that your fiercely independent, which tells me that you don’t trust that things will happen naturally, and you feel you have to make them happen. And there’s nothing wrong with this. However, if you want the sensation of being cared for, you have to remember the roll of the feminine.

    I see that your an amazing women… and it’s okay once in a while to let down your guard and be vulnerable, trust that those are you will catch you.

    1. I read the post to my husband before I posted to make sure he did not feel offended. We are super open with each other and have talked about these realities on many occasions. He doesn’t fuss. He is a wonderful man, but is also the son of a strong-minded single mom, which is likely why I fit the bill for him. I could wallow in sorrow over the fact that he doesn’t fuss or I can love him as he is and feel really great about it on most days. Thanks for your thoughts. 🙂

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