I have forgotten how to have fun. It’s rather pathetic, but I realized the other day I struggle to have fun in my every day life. I was contemplating my inability to have fun and thinking of all the times I’ve had fun: partying in my 20’s, dating, getting married, delighting in my little kids, watching them discover the world. It was somewhere in the “delighting in my little kids” when I think I stopped having fun.
I spent so much time delighting in them and making sure they were having fun, that my “fun” became dependent on their having fun. Now that they are teens, I realized not only am I not having fun anymore, but I forgot how to have fun. My kids don’t need me like they used to, they don’t think I’m cool anymore (if they ever did), and they often reject my suggestions to go have fun. When I make them go on a family outing to have some fun with their parental units, they usually don’t want to go. When I make them go, one or the other of them pouts their way through the outing, making sure no one is having fun. This is, of course, no fun.
So then I contemplate back on how I used to have fun. I must’ve had fun at some time or other, but can I get back that fun? Well, I don’t drink anymore, so partying is out. I don’t like crowded rooms, hot places or unnecessary noise, so concert venues are out. I realize I need to redefine my fun as a middle-aged parent of teens. With my description above it sounds like I’m down to staid lectures and symphonies, but then there is the added problem of boredom and falling asleep, which is not fun.
When I started meeting new friends at the bus stop and through Tot Time at the church, we used to make time to go have coffee or have a girls’ night out. Now most of my friends from my kids’ early years have jobs, which cut into my fun. I’m also not standing at the bus stop anymore, as my kids are going to different schools and usually parents of teens don’t stand at bus stops anyway because that would embarrass their teens (oh, the horror of it). Although horrifying my teens is sometimes fun for me.
I really do want to have fun. Sometimes I have to make myself have fun these days. I was talking to a friend of mine when I was hosting a bunco night at my house a few months ago. She was trying to discreetly get out of attending. I was on to her and did my best to guilt her into coming. After all, I hadn’t had bunco at my house in years and I had just remodeled my family room, plus my kids were taller, my husband older and we had new pets.
We started talking about the early years of our bunco group (we’ve been a group about 11 years). We were a much more uptight group in the early years when our children were small. We never missed our monthly bunco night. For those of you not familiar with bunco, it’s just a dice rolling “parlor” game; no strategy or concentration required. In those early years it was the only non-kid event in the month many of us had. We were mostly stay-at-home moms and were dying to get out of the house without the kids. Sometimes bunco became secondary to talking and snacking on nonkid friendly food. We’d stay out as late as our husbands could stand; certainly at least until the kids were in bed.
Now the kids are teens or in college and “late” is around 9 p.m. Sometimes we have to drag ourselves out of the house just to get to bunco, because many of us are working out of the house all week.
I haven’t yet figured out how to redefine “fun.” For me much of what should be considered fun is a chore, because I have to plan it and pack for it. I didn’t want to have a headshot for this column, because my appearance in photos the past 15 years has shown me looking severe. That’s because I’m always telling everyone to have fun and my family always snaps the picture before I have time to compose myself. And that is just no fun.
Gretchen Leigh is a stay-at-home mom and writer who lives in Covington. She is committed to writing about the humor amidst the chaos of a family. You can read her daily blog or reach her at her website.
