How Old?

Feeling old is new to me. It's not fun, easy to accept, or anything that I'd recommend to someone else. It's here to stay, though, or so it seems. So I guess that I need to get used to it.

I'm not sure if its the fact that I am now a mother (read: supposed to be mature), almost 31, or that my weekends are not the same as they were B.C. (Before Connor). As I write this, I feel like I should stop because I'm not supposed to feel this way. Please don't get me wrong: I love Connor and if I could go back in time, I'd do it all over again. But (and you knew that a "but" was coming, didn't you?) I'm not good at this whole "change" thing. That's all that I can guess. I'll get there... eventually.

Part of my frustration is the small amount of time that I get to spend with Dennis. Just me and Dennis. Dennis and me. When we do get a free minute to ourselves in the evening, we are both too exhausted to really enjoy each other. On the few occasions that we have managed to escape for a dinner out, I am reminded very quickly how much I love, love, LOVE being able to talk to my husband. Isn't that sad? [Insert double-edged sword here.] As much as I enjoy our alone time, I still manage to feel guilty for not having Connor with us. WHAT IS GOING ON HERE? THIS MAKES NO SENSE WHAT-SO-EVER.

Now that I'm thinking this through as I type this post, I am seeing that more of my frustration and feeling like an old hag is due to the fact that our old-school-Dennis-and-Krista-fun-and-relaxing-time has diminished ... if not completely disappeared. I need to find a way to squeeze that back into our routine. And not just during Connors nap time.