The backdrop is buzzing with sounds of the return jets of our just opened swimming pool, motorcycles roaring by with undistinguishable classic rock tunes blaring, my husband pitching baseballs to our son. As I write this, life is more than okay. It’s the first time it’s felt “more” in a really long time. There is a tractor turning up dust in the field behind our house, our giant 1 year old pup has his tongue hanging from the first warm day of the year, birds swoop and chirp, our daughter does backflips off the swing that she’s nearly outgrown. Gus, our youngest, squeals as he runs at lightning speed to nowhere in particular in our yard. It’s the gaggle of geese mixed with the airplanes casting shadows overhead.
There’s been a slow shifting happening that ended up turning into the “more” of today and I recognize that it’s a story worth telling. I am currently in the sweet spot of life and I am very much aware of it and continually stave off the urge to let my mind wander to the dark side with questions like “how long will this last?” I will no longer tolerate that kind of talk within myself because life is just too damn short and too much fun. For me, the sweet spot is being a mom to kids who no longer need me for constant care and protection, but they’re not quite old enough to get themselves into real trouble. It’s not having to worry about whether a restaurant has a diaper changing station, there’s no psycho Mom freak out over a stroller that won’t fold so you jam it into the back seat in it’s full upright position, there’s no question on whether the car seat should face forward or connect to a latch system. Those baby/toddler years weren’t my best parenting years. They were generally sweaty, manic, with a lot of breast-pumping and driving. We’ve aged out of diaper bags and burp rags and I’m not sad about it. Pearl is now a mature 10, who knows how to boss her brothers around while their Dad and I take the dog for our usual 1.45 mile walk. Right now, Pearl trusts me, talks to me about things that make me blush and I literally can’t get enough of how she is both awkward and confident all at once. She’s always had a knowing about her that makes me so proud. Her soul feels familiar. Bode is the world’s greatest big brother and is constantly thinking up fun to be had with Gus. The boys do everything together and even though they have their own rooms, they choose to sleep together and giggle themselves to sleep every night. I quit threatening them to go to sleep and allow them to relish in those moments that memories are sure to be made of.
It’s also being a woman who is approaching middle age and learning to let go of all the baggage, sadness, and comparison that goes with being a “young woman”. I wouldn’t trade any of the bullshit that I went through in my 20’s or 30’s because it’s what has allowed me to finally live the authentic life I’ve always craved. I spent so many years hiding my pain and using my independence as a shield. I was basically intolerable to be around. I spent 2 decades trying to convince myself that I didn’t need anyone, yet was a lonely, bitter shell of a person. Grief is an ongoing process and I’ve grieved a lot over the last couple of years, not just the physical loss of family members but the loss of time spent pretending to be someone I wasn’t and hiding my emotions for fear they were too much for others to handle. I’ve grieved the mistakes I’ve made, when I let those who love me down. I’ve also forgiven, accepted and loved. It’s almost impossible to have room for love when your life is full of guilt, shame and resentment. Loss has taught me to love wholly and deeply. It’s taught me to take ownership and have upfront yet difficult conversations with those worth having them with. I’ve said I’m sorry more in the last 2 years than I have the first 3 decades of my life. It’s encouraged me to take that adventure, cuss when it feels right (it always feels right), chat up a senior citizen in the grocery store for no good reason other than they looked like they wanted to talk to someone, show up to the parents club meeting, hug my kid when they should have been reprimanded, join my Grandmother’s BUNCO club, and appreciate all of the hard and soft moments that brought me right here to this place. It’s a new phase and I am really digging it.
I’ve reached the age where making my bed makes me happy. I recently discovered manicures. I like to make social media posts of flora and fauna. I dye my hair because otherwise I’d be full on gray. I constantly put my foot in my mouth, it’s a real problem that apparently gets worse with age. I lecture my kids about manners. I watch PBS and listen to NPR and donate to them because I couldn’t bare the guilt of getting that service for free. I wait in long lines for specialty coffees. I dance whenever it’s appropriate and sometimes when it’s not. I shop. I clean before the cleaning lady comes each month. All of this IS SO MY MOM. I used to dog on her so hard for all of the above. We are critical of the ones we love, partly because we see our own shortcomings in them, partly fear, but mostly jealousy. Realizing this, and owning it has allowed me to be more compassionate and less judgmental of myself and those who are in my life.
Maybe it’s just the old age talking but I feel nostalgic and giddy about the simple moments and crave more of them. I notice the trillium and jack in the pulpit popping on my daily walks and wonder if anyone else notices them. I don’t want to forget my sons trembling legs on the high dive or my daughter’s face when I catch her singing into her hair dryer. It’s our family Fitbit competitions (Bode’s average is 28,000 steps/day so it’s almost impossible to beat him). It’s pretending like I have it all together a couple nights a week and put a dinner on the table that no one eats except Glenn, the dog, and I. It’s the fact that we have 6 African micro frogs floating around in this house. It’s that Theresa Guidice served prison time and still hasn’t grown the fuck up, and even still, after a decade, I’m watching RHONJ. It’s that my UPS man talks shit about my amazon habit to my neighbors. All of it is just too much, in a good way, as long as I continue to choose to see it that way.
I see ya sweet spot and I plan on living in it as long as you’ll have me. xx
mpoweredstate 