I don't care

Sometimes I look in the mirror and don't recognize the person I've become. It's not a bad thing; it's just that the things I used to care so much about no longer matter to me. I'm not talking about my attitude towards my loved ones or my health -- those are still priority #1. It's about little things like decorating. I used to spend endless hours combing through designer mags and watching HGTV looking for inspiring ideas to make my house a home. Today, I COULDN'T CARE LESS. It is a complete waste of time and money. The house looks fine as it is -- bare.

I have become my mother, *sigh*. I remember being really pissed with my mom for having the same furniture as when she and my dad got married, for refusing to make holes in the wall by hanging art and for leaving the house boring beige. I couldn't understand why she didn't care! Well now I do. It's a rat race. Once you start, you can't stop. You end up with rooms full of furniture that you trip over on a daily basis and shelves full of chotsky's that you have to dust or repair all the time. It also fails to satisfy. The temporary high from a room nicely decorated loses it's appeal within days (yes, it's always about the Power of Now). In fact, if you're like me, it'll even start to piss you off -- why the fuck did I paint this room ORANGE?! It's too BRIGHT dammit! We could have taken a real vacation for what I just spent on new linens, frig! KIDS! STOP CLIMBING ON THAT EXPENSIVE TABLE!! etc, etc.

We all know know people who live for decorating -- they invest hundreds of hours painting elaborate faux finishes, scour antique markets for treasured nick knacks, and sew their own decorative throw pillows and draperies. It's quite impressive and at the same time heart breaking. I just want to shout "None of those things make a happy home lady!" That used to be me. If I could only get back all those hours I spent shopping at Home Sense and planning my designer projects in exchange for quality time spent playing with my kids or even exercising. Those are what matter to me now.

So where is this coming from? Have I matured, or just given up on life? My family thinks I'm depressed and perhaps they are partly right. But maybe I'm just finally learning how to be me. Endless conversations with my Mommy friends about renovations and decorating projects made me feel like I needed to follow the trend. Now I'm just more comfortable with the status quo. I mean, I haven't given up completely -- I still take pride in a neat and clean house. It's just that the decorating (along with the gourmet cooking) is no longer important. And that's OK.