Happy (birthday)

Marking another trip around the sun:

looking back on the lessons learned,

looking forward to new dreams, experiences.

Wondering what the next trip around

will bring as I mark my

thirty ninth year on this Earth.

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?

Five for Five: Pictures

Scraggly circles with wriggly smiles.  Hair sticking straight up, reed-like arms and legs.  Bodies made of round circles and noses that take up half the face.  Oddly shaped rainbows, the Earth the size of the Sun and families where Mommy is stick thin.  For an added touch, the artist's name is scrawled in capital letters, nearly overtaking the space around the picture.

A house full of pictures that chronicle a lifetime of memories.  Smooth skin and curly hair, clavicles that stick out and thin thighs that are long forgotten. A blushing bride with a poufy veil.  Bright smiles of a honeymooning couple.  Round, pregnant belly awkwardly posed in front of a mountain of welcoming gifts.  Brand new screaming babies.  Proud, anxious parents.  Grandparents in awe of their grandchild.  First toothless smiles.  Wobbly first steps.  Vacation shots at the beach, mountains, national monuments. Children with lost teeth. 

There are haphazardly framed photographs in every corner of my house.  Carefully chosen, they reflect moments that linger within my heart.  They chronicle the evolution of my life,  motherhood: from fearful first-time mother to more at ease mother of three.

For some, a picture might be a way capture an image of an event, now forgotten.  For me, they are a reminder of how far we have come as a family, how far we still have to go.  Pictures of John and I during our Senior Year of high school, as engaged college students, as married homeowners.  They help concrete the reality of things that have been buried in the recesses of our often overloaded minds.  They remind us of a simpler, more innocent time; one without the many responsibilities that shackle us in adulthood, that serve as a reminder that we were once younger and thinner.  Maybe even cooler.

The pictures that mean the most, the ones that I treasure the most are the ones made by the subjects of many of my photographs.  My children's pictures line bulletin boards in the kitchen; hang proudly, framed in our bathrooms; serve as inspiration at school, where they are displayed next to phone lists and emergency procedures.

The pictures that my sons have drawn throughout the years serve as a measure of how far they have come, and how far they have yet to go.  The ingenuous depictions of our family, rendered in pencil, crayon, marker or finger paints hold a special place in my heart.  No matter what day I have been dealt, what crisis I am wading through, a quick glance at Joshua's parade of smiley faces, or Andrew's freehand Mickey's or Matthew's latest blueprints for a new invention is sure to put a spring in my step.

What I have found the most rewarding of all is to sit and thumb through my old childhood pictures, usually flanked by my boys. Their laughter at long and thankfully forgotten fashions and hairstyles, their wonder as they see that their mom was indeed a child herself, their surprise at seeing their grandparents and great aunts and uncles much younger is an experience.  Seeing myself, through their eyes, is necessary.  They don't see the baggage that I carry: the worry if I am doing a good job mothering them, the sadness I feel when I look at myself in some pictures, remembering a day long gone by, another lifetime ago.

It gives me an opportunity to reflect as I sit and look at my own children's multitude of digital shots over the years.  The wonder of how much time has gone by.  How much they have grown and learned.  The bittersweet knowledge that this leg of the journey is fleeting; they are become independent individuals. 

It makes me wonder why there are so few pictures of me with them?  Is it that I am always the recorder of the moments that make them giggle, frozen in a snapshot for all time?  Am I participating enough, yet always hide behind the lens?

Yet, in the moments of self doubt, when I wonder if they are okay, a small, or medium, or large hand will quietly slip unexpectedly into mine. 

Yes, they are okay.  I have the photographic evidence.

Without a camera, my eyes focus on the owner of that hand within my own.

 

And my heart snaps the picture.

Chat...

Our children busy, wrapped in imagination.

Breakfast dishes littering the kitchen table.

You and I, two coffee cups.

The aroma entices us to awaken;

a truth serum for the weary.

Long forgotten antidotes, reminders of events.

Our past, present and future whispered;

treasured on this rare, quiet morning.

My hopes spoken, worries finally revealed

to my faithful confidant, secret keeper.

Need to chat?  Find out more about Six Word Fridays by visiting Melissa's blog!

Stop and go

Green light: GO!  Traffic, meetings, assignments.

Red light: STOP!  All I want is to stop

for a bit, so there is

fuel to go.  A moment to

set my eyes on Nature's beauty.

Want to learn more about Six Word Fridays?  Visit Melissa's blog!

The story of us...





Our story: a work in progress.


Once upon a time, long ago.


In the here and now: nonfiction.


A new chapter with every morning.


Happily ever after, befitting of us.

December 2010: 15 years later, the story is getting more interesting...

Got a story to share? Check out Melissa and Six Word Fridays!

Why not...

Do things on a whim.

Practice random acts of kindness today.

Run an extra mile, just because.

Smile at someone who needs it.

Give a compliment and mean it.

Be kind to someone who's rude.

Act silly, like your shoe size.

Indulge in something, just for you.

Unload an anxiety that cripples you.

Replace it with something joyful, empowering.

Drown a sorrow, float with hope.

Do what you would do if

today was your very last day.

It's not too late to change.

Why not start right this second?

Why not join us?  Visit Melissa and find out more about Six Word Fridays!

Connect five...

On the days that end in "y":

Opportunities missed to strengthen our bonds.

Work, school, homework, dinner, bath, bed.

Rinse. Repeat. Days end with "Why?"

Why is there so much crammed

into these 24 hour periods?

Days flow into one another, unrecognizable.

On a day that ended in "y,"

an opened envelope beckoned, invited

a chance, a glimmer, an opportunity,

to connect five people who live

rushing on days ending in "y".

A free meal, a wonderful cause;

helped connect our party of five;

end our day with knowledge that

days that end in "y" can be

as magical as days that begin

with "S", even as summer ends.

Trying to connect?  Visit Melissa and find out more about Six Word Fridays!

Well Paid, Infinitely Wealthy

Job description notes endless days, nights.

Dirty faces and behinds, whining, complaining.

Rumbling, hungry tummies to be filled.

Injustices to be righted with conviction.

Armed with Mommy's Childrearing Playbook,

tasks are rarely completed as desired.

On days I need it most,

payday is an unimaginable windfall.

Currency: Hugs, kisses, squeals and smiles.

It makes "All About the Benjamin's"

turn an envious shade of green.

I doubt millionaires are this rich.

Paid for a job well done?  Want to learn more about Six Word Fridays?  Visit Melissa at Making Things Up!

If things had been different...

If we had not met then,

would we have this wondrous life?

Would fate have intervened; righted wrongs?

Set us back onto the path

that led us to one another?

Would I still marvel at us?

Look at your smiling, unchanging face,

and still see you at seventeen,

rather than the crinkles that outline

the storming ocean-colored eyes I love?

Would we have these three boys,

that exhaust our energies, rejuvenate us;

remind of us promises made, kept?

If we had taken different paths,

would they have met here, right now?

Would we know how love's perseverance

has lined every day, every year?

And how truly fortunate we are,

that our "what if's" are reality;

the stuff dreams are made of.

What if?  If, then?  If you want to know more about Six Word Fridays, check out Melissa at a brand new Making Things Up!

Kind of odd query...

What kind of person am I?

A person who accommodates others incessantly?

Or is an agonizing push over?

A person who is eternally optimistic?

Or one who masks her sadness?

A person who can overcome anything,

but feels so ridiculously overwhelmed lately?

Maybe I am a kind of challenge,

one who is, who can be...

A labyrinth of ideas, of potential,

full of flaws, motivated to change.

A person conflicted, but somehow fulfilled.

And is kind of at peace

with being at odds with myself.

In the end, aren't we all

kind of a juxtaposition of ideas?

Aren't we more beguiling that way?

Kind of confused?  What kind?  Are you kind?  Visit Melissa at Making Things Up and find out more about Six Word Fridays!

Near-sighted

I am one in a family.

A family of severely myopic people.

The glasses sit upon my nose;

they've been there over thirty years.

They make the blobs of faraway

become beloved people, places I recognize.

The pair of glasses I most covet

are the ones that would focus

the unrecognizable, unknown days of tomorrow.

I wonder when those mysterious images

will become clear in my own heart.

I wonder how I will move

past the yesterday, through the today,

into that still fuzzy, undefined tomorrow.

Will the family curse of nearsightedness

keep me from looking ahead, anticipating;

from looking back, treasuring while reminiscing?

And will I need my glasses

to see what my heart sees

so clearly today? I hope not.

Near or far?  What makes you squint?  Visit Making Things Up to learn more about Six Word Fridays...

Last...

Last to sit down to eat.

Last to lay down and sleep.

Last on the to-do list.

Because this too shall pass, unexpectedly.

They will grow, leave the nest.

And I will no longer be

the last one on the list.

So I will savor being last;

the last to tuck them in,

the last to kiss them goodnight.

The last to see them peacefully sleeping,

as I sneak one last glimpse.

Are you last?  Want to tell?  Visit Melissa at Making Things Up for more on Six Word Fridays!

First love

My first love comes home daily,

is greeted by three rambunctious boys.

He writes love letters, folds laundry.

My first love can do anything;

handles any crisis with efficient calm,

packs lunches for his sleepy boys.

His smile awakes his tired wife;

because of him, she is invincible.

His mischievous green eyes still crinkle

in laughter, in amusement, in delight.

Those bewitching green eyes still smile

when I walk into the room.

They still see me as I was,

love me for who I've become.

Got a first you want to talk about?  Want to learn more about Six Word Fridays?  Visit Melissa at Making Things Up.

Drowning...

The past few weeks have come with their own set of issues and challenges. Between frantically teaching material before our state mandated exam and ending of the grading period, I am tired. Add renewing my national certification, my middle son's communion in the next three weeks, a family cruise (YAY!) and two birthdays and I am wiped.

Plus, I stepped on a scale the other day and nearly died. Not happy folks. So not happy that I rejoined Weight Watchers and I am now having to relearn all the points for my favorite stuff.

But what has me the most unhappy is the loss of my beloved Thai Red Curry Chicken. I am so sad. Do you have any idea how many points the amount of yummy Red Curry Chicken makes my heart sing? It would take DOZENS of consecutive half marathons to undo that damage...(sigh)

So, in many ways I am drowning. There are not enough days in the week. There are not enough hours in the day.

The only thing that is helping me get up out of bed without sobbing and downing serious amounts of pharmaceuticals is the idea that in a mere ten days, I will be surrounded by Disney magic.

On a ship.

With all my guys.

In the open waters of the Atlantic.

And if it gets too bad, I can always jump overboard.

Into a vat of luscious Thai Red Curry Chicken!

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!

Waiting...

On days like today, I feel like the waiting is endless. It seems as though I am always waiting on something to change, to getter better. I am always waiting for someone, sometime, to be ready, to get their act together.

On some days, like today, my tolerance is not as good as it used to be.

I am tired.

I am fed up of people behaving badly.

Of people who should know better to ACTUALLY do better.

And it makes me sad that these people misuse the opportunity they have to help others in inspiring ways. To use their opportunity to uplift people instead of bringing them down.

It makes me sad that I am still so naive when it comes to human nature, even though I'd like to think I am a cynical chick.

So, I am waiting.

Waiting to get over my over-anxious nature and not get worked up.

Waiting for the endless four days ahead of Spring Break.

Waiting for the glorious beach and hopefully, a couple of days at the sunny shore, ready to toss my thoughts into the endless waves.

And, I am waiting to be able to DO better, 'cause I know better.

And hoping I don't fall short.

Novel

There are days I catch myself

wondering if there are enough words,

enough thoughts, enough determination and discipline.

There are days when I wonder

if there is a novel lurking

deep within my mind and heart;

if I have enough courage, talent

to actually sit down, write it.

My thoughts get too far off.

I am brought back to reality

by the melodious, mischievous, boyish laughter

of my three works in progress,

and I stand in awe that

I have co-authored these first chapters

of what is sure to be

the three amazing life stories of

my three, most beloved, inspiring sons.

Want to share?  Catch Melissa at Making Things Up and the Six Word Friday challenge!

Insecurity Blanket

If you met me in my element, it would be hard to notice the wondrously heavy blanket I have been carrying around since childhood. As I have gotten older, I have gotten better at hiding the rather monstrous problem I have with insecurities, but they have gotten much harder to accept as a daily occurrence.

Regardless of the hours spent on the therapist's couch and the small fortune that could have been devoted to fabulous shoes, there are still events that send me into a tailspin of anxiety. I often wonder if people can see through this. I wonder if I have become such a good actress that only my husband and sister can see through the veneer of a smile and hasty chuckle to realize that on the inside, my heart is thumping out of control and I am literally drowning in my own sweat.

For years, I hid behind my strict upbringing. Now that I have children, I hide behind motherhood. But I often wonder what I would be like if I just let that blanket go. And in some ways, I am. In small steps, I have started to try new things, take up new interests. I am putting myself out there. Like a newborn colt, I am testing out my legs.

For the most part, the insecurity panic attacks have subsided. But every once in a while, I wonder. What do people really think of me? Why is it that I can see the best in everyone, but fail to recognize it when I look in the mirror? Why can't I shut up the voice inside my head that tells me I am not good enough, once and for all?

I wonder when the version of me everyone sees will become who I am, inside and out.

When will this Linus finally outgrow that infamous blanket?