Five for Five: Age

I heading towards the big 4-0 in a little over a year.  I know I should not be too worried.  Forty is the new thirty.  I have over a year to get over it.  I understand all of that.  Really, I do.

But I have a son who is going to start middle school in the fall.  I have a son who will begin Kindergarten in the fall.  I can't be young and have a middle school-er, can I?  I mean, do you remember what your parents and your friends' parents seemed like when you were twelve?  I'll say it for you: ANCIENT.

Somehow, the idea of a middle school aged kid and a Kindergartener shouldn't go together.  I mean, they are both monumental milestones.  Forty: a monumental milestone.  I am a little freaked out.  

Really. 

And I kind of feel sorry for my husband.  

Can you imagine what things are going to be like?  Mommy is turning forty and running from a midlife crisis in sensible (read: old lady) shoes while her baby is starting school for real and her oldest is going through pre-teen, emotional, pre-adolescent bullshit. 

Yeah.  Life will be grand.  Please note that this statement is oozing in sarcasm.

So I have done what any sensible woman would do (besides wonder how the hell I got to here).  I booked a cruise.

I know what many of you who have followed my blog for a while and remember last year's ill-planned cruise are thinking.  But I was smart this time.

I know no one in my household will be making a major religious sacrament.

I know that everyone will have testing in April. 

I know when the last day of school is in 2013 (no eye rolling, please.)

I made sure we leave two days AFTER the last day, making it virtually impossible to screw this up.

Except that we won't be celebrating my fortieth on the ship, because my big day is the day before.

Nor will we be celebrating my husband's fortieth (as he is quick to point out, I am eleven days older), because we get back before his big day.

And I'm okay with that.  I want to be in the comfort of my own home, frantically packing for five when it hits. 

I wonder if it will hurt.

I guess my biggest problem is that my mind cannot accept this.  I don't feel older than 25, at most. And maybe there is the crux of the issue.  In my head, I am 25.  My body says otherwise if I carry too many groceries at one time or I try to scoop my sleeping five year old to bed.  My body screams: NO!!  You are not 25.  You are there.  Where you thought you would never be.  You are arriving at middle age.  Shit.

It took me most of my life to finally be comfortable in my own skin.  I have a better clue of what I am doing now in most areas of my life.  I can live in my own head now; the noise has considerably gotten quieter.   I have finally found the courage to be the person I thought I could be.  I have challenged myself physically (6 half marathons in a year, yo!).  I have pushed myself to do the impossible (have you tried to keep three boys clean, groomed, fed and entertained while holding down a full time job?) and still manage to want to try new things (like assisted handstands in yoga or getting up each morning and doing it all again).

How can it be that the calendar says what it says?

I suppose that it is the amount of milestones that we will be celebrating in early June 2013 that has me grasping.  A son finishing his first year of middle school and inching towards 13.  A middle son ready to start his last year of elementary school.  A baby boy finishing his Kindergarten year.  Mom AND Dad reaching middle age.

Any of these, by themselves, are enough to have you reeling, even just a teensy bit.  If broken up into chewable pieces, you can savor each one separately, brace yourself for the next one.  But all of them simultaneously is a lot to get used to in a short amount of time.

This passage of time is relentless.  You don't get to just stop at your favorite part and linger for a while.  It goes by FAST and furious.  Good and bad.  All of it.  The photographs chronicle.  Looking back, it seems like 5 minutes ago.  And that's the cruelty.  There is no time to lament.  Enjoy it NOW.  Or it will seem so five minutes ago, but really be five years ago in the blink of an eye.

And, really, that's all age is.  Time.  Time your ticker has been ticking.  What you have done with the time you have been allotted.  What you have done with the body you were assigned.  What you are going to do to make up for the things you wish you had done differently. 

Age means that you know the difference.  You have the wisdom to discern, to change tactics, and make it okay.

In the end, the extra little lines that make their debut slowly on your face, you've earned.  I would rather have earned them smiling, laughing my ass off (if ONLY that were true!), and etch them deeper in my face by continuing to live on my terms.

I mean, 40 is 30 with ten years experience, right?

Crossing the finish line

It all started with a dare.

Endless training: early mornings, late nights.

Calloused feet, sore legs, rickety knees.

Questions, answers, gear, fuel, hot showers.

One cold January morning, I waited.

Nervous, anxious to start, heart pumping.

The gun, the rush, the race.

My face greeted by cold air,

my feet effortlessly doing what I

could never do as a child.

My boys waiting at Mile Ten,

cameras in hand, tears flooding me,

the end so very near now.

As the sound of pounding drums

greeted my last turn, I rejoiced.

I caught my breathe, geared up

and made my legs go faster.

Thirty-seven years. Six months. Three hours.

The sight of that finish line

is something I will never forget.

I will never underestimate myself again.

Ever crossed the line?  Tell us about it!  Visit Melissa at Making Things Up to find out more about Six Word Fridays!

I Triple Dog Dare you

Dare to dream of a life

that leaves you inspired, loved, fulfilled.

Dare to live your one life

so others are inspired, loved, fulfilled.

Everyone knows that Triple Dog Dares

may leave you flustered, frozen, stuck.

But the tradeoffs? Stories, laughs, bragging-rights!

What a daring way to live!

In a daring mood?  Triple Dog Dare you to check out Melissa at Making Things Up and learn more about Six Word Fridays!

Jumping back in...

It has been a while since I was faithful to this blog. It seems that the pressures of motherhood, work and family responsibilities have swallowed up whatever energy, inspiration or ability to write these past few months. I have felt a constant struggle to force myself to sit and write, yet, what would be the point if what was out there was crap.

The last day of school was last Thursday. Life has not slowed down. But enough is enough. I have all but abandoned writing. And it's not fair.

But the writing isn't the only thing I abandoned.

Five years ago, I decided to face my greatest fear: learning to swim. My two older boys were learning how to swim. Andrew thought it was the most unfair thing in the whole world, especially since his mom didn't know how to swim. At 33 years old. With two kids. So the sass of my son made me get out of my comfort zone and learn. For a while. Until I got pregnant with Joshua and found my out.

My parents never thought my sister and I really needed to learn. Neither one of them were strong swimmers. For a short time, when I was about 3 or 4, my mother would let me go with an older neighbor to his neighbor's pool. I was terrified, but eventually, I looked forward to going. Until he got sick and eventually succumbed to lung cancer. My sister was the daredevil. When our next door neighbors finally had completed their pool, Angie got on the slide, and just began to swim. She was a fish.

When I had my boys, I was always fearful of them being in the water. Because deep down inside, I knew that if they were in distress, I would not be able to save them. They fought me on those swimming lessons. I stood my ground. They are excellent swimmers and now take lessons to improve their endurance and strokes.

Now, I am not learning to swim because my children need me to. Now, I am learning for me. Because it's about time. I am 38 years old. It's time to jump back in.

There are no more excuses.

I have run two half marathons in the last six months. I teach. I have dealt with a wide range of fail issues and caring for elderly family members. I have THREE boys, dagnamit. I can do this.

So yesterday, after dropping the older boys at their tennis lesson, I got back in the pool with an instructor. All decked out in my swimmer's cap (just because I'm doing this doesn't mean I have to have bad hair at the end of the summer), surrounded by toddlers learning to swim with another instructor.

Much like last time, there are two other ladies learning to swim with me. We smile at each other, encourage each other, talk about other challenges we have overcome in between learning how to breathe and kick underwater. There is a certain camaraderie in knowing that you are not alone.

Yesterday was not as hard as five years ago. My memory of almost drowning sixteen years ago seems far away, a lifetime ago. That scared girl cannot live within the body of this woman who has overcome so much.

Yesterday, I put my head under the water, and clenched my eyes, fumbling towards the surface to breathe, terrified as I opened my eyes as I surfaced, gasped, went back down.

Yesterday, as the instructor stood in the pool, coaxing what he knew I could do, I caught a glimpse of Joshua, standing near the pool, looking at me. As I looked at my son, I saw my husband. I was surprised, as I thought he would not be home until after the 30 minute lesson, in time to pick up Matt and Andrew from tennis 30 minutes later. He sat, watching me overcome my fear.

Yesterday, when I slid underwater, I opened my eyes and saw the clarity of the water. I turned my head, took in air, and stuck my head back under. I felt my body glide, arms rotating, legs kicking. When I reached the wall, I saw my son's smiling face and knew I was back.

Have you ever had a fear that seemed insurmountable? Were you able to overcome it? How do you cope with it?

Yesterday's Lessons...

Yesterday, I did not know this:

I am more than the sum

of all my parts. I'm me.

I did not know how quickly

the days pass, one into another,

and how I'd yearn to be

back, reveling in the early days.

I didn't know my own strength,

my own endurance, my own speed.

I did not know I limit myself.

Yesterday, I was lost, map-less, hopeless.

I could not understand, acknowledge, internalize,

the twists and turns that lead

to Today. To a brighter me.

Yesterdays got me here; unscathed, wiser.

And today: tomorrow's yesterday, I am.

What does yesterday mean to you?  Check out Melissa at Making Things Up and Six Word Fridays.

Right...or enlightened?

In the spectrum of wrong, right
lies the possibility, opportunity to enlighten.
Given the chance, would you rather
be wrong, be right or be

able see all that lies between,
unspoken?

Curious about Six Word Fridays?  Check out Melissa at Making Things Up!

When it's a go...

Red light: gather your thoughts, prepare.

Yellow light: a pause to breathe.

Green light: go forth, obstacle free.

Set your compass, plan your way,

map in hand, dreams unfolding; everyday.

When you know it's a go,

put your best foot forward, ready.

Let yourself be, challenged, marvelously, uniquely.

Let yourself be, always ready, willing.

Do not wait. Ready? Set. Go!

Ready to give it a go?  Visit Melissa at Making Things Up and try out Six Word Fridays!

'Cause I can...

On Sunday, I was a Princess. A Princess who awoke at 3:00 am, donned her hot pink, glittery headband, a pink tutu, and a killer pair of compression sleeves.

On Sunday, I participated in my second half marathon, ever. Just a month shy of my first.

If I was excited about the first one, I was more than a little nervous about this one. I was worried I would oversleep like I had for the few runs we had done in the last two weeks. I fretted over the weather. I worried about the lack of training because of my neighbor's injury after the marathon last month. I wondered how my husband would handle the three kids without me and venture in the Spectator sections with countless other husbands and children at Epcot.

I worried for nothing.

My neighbor and I did not oversleep. We made it to the buses in plenty of time. I met up with Liz, from ...but then I had kids, who also happens to be my son's teacher. I cannot tell you how happy I was to see at least two familiar faces in that multitude of estrogen.

The day was warm. The weather was perfect. My husband fared well, as he is now a seasoned expert at maneuvering large crowds with small children. My lack of training was a non-issue, since I virtually made my same time in spite of posing with Disney characters and NUMEROUS potty breaks... (I won't even tell you how un-Princess like it was to go potty in a portable toilet with a tutu...)

And I had a marvelous time. For a little while, I was Princess Maria. I was living the fairy tale I wish I would have had the courage to attempt to live 15 years ago. Or even ten years ago. But I am definitely living it now.

There was no overwhelming urge to vomit when I crossed the finish line this time. As I looked around at the cheering crowd, knowing that my guys were somewhere out there in that sea of people, I was filled with awe that I had come this far. That I was still standing. That I was still running.

This time, when I crossed the finish line, there was pride. There was joy. There were tears.

And yes, I ran in that tutu for 13.1 miles. And I felt every bit a princess. Even if it was for one day.

Well: I am getting there

For years, I lied to myself
believing that acting well enough was

surely as good as being well.

But acting is not good enough.

Now, being well is better; necessary.
Much like a well, I have
gone deep to find the good
that was always within me; unfulfilled.
That change has come about with

sacrifice, heartache; for me, for us.
When I am with you, love,
my heart is a bottomless well
of passion, of gratitude, of abandon.
Because of in spite of me,
with you, I'm better than well.
With you, I can be me; authentically.

Are you well?  Want to tell how?  Visit Melissa at Making Things Up and join in Six Words Fridays!