Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Not a Dear John

Dear Eric,

How do I begin this entry without exposing too much personal detail? Tomorrow is your birthday. 39 you will be, to self-consciously mimic Yoda.

As I consider what else to say to you and you (whomever is reading), my eyes begin to tear. I think I summed it up best at our wedding, when I said "you had me at hello." Oh wait, those weren't my vows.

A more accurate version of that line would be: you had me the day you barked like a dog. I think it's OK to tell people that you got down on all fours and actually barked, around the third week we were dating. At that point, I knew.

What was so eerily coincidental (not to mention hysterical) was I had just told Anne-Marie I was waiting for you to get down on the floor and bark like a dog because you were so perfect for me in every way. True story.

Funny how I thought that act would be a deal-breaker before I saw it with my gaping eyes. How many thousands of funny moments have we had since then?

Happy birthday, to the one who constantly surprises me. Thank you.

A Hammock of One's Own

Approaching 40 and becoming a mom can separately and collectively make a girl think, even make her take aim at the neighbor's bird (Mad Men reference). I've been considering how lazy I've been for so much of my life.

When I had all of "that" free time, what did I do? I read, I wrote, I smoked cigarettes (for at least fifteen years). I hung out with friends as we debated God's existence, the necessity of marriage, and how many places we were going to live - still one of the best pastimes ever invented. There were hobbies - painting bottles, refinishing a night table, more painting in various ways. Oh yeah, I dabbled with the guitar, but mostly because I thought it was cool to be the chic who played guitar. Guys definitely liked it, right? Not that I have actual proof. Guys actually loved my guitar, not sure if the fact I was playing had relevance.

OK then, I did some stuff, but mostly in my twenties. My thirties, before baby, were spent working, studying, "disciplining" teenagers, and the big one...falling in love. For several years, when I wasn't working, I was in love. Beautiful love. Silly, ridiculous, don't want to leave the person's side kind of love. Not to say, I am no longer in love, but our hobbies seemed to mesh into a sweet finger hammock, like everything else in our lives.

Now that Asher is here,that lovely finger hammock has taken on a new shape. It brushes the sandy floor, in fact. We can't quite keep all of our fingers locked. One reason I want to sew?

All in all, the re-weaving process has begun. Only, this time, I am creating a hammock of my own.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

Should I Stay or Should I Go Now?

I confess. There was a moment today, walking downstairs from the restroom at the Atlanta Botanical Gardens, when I imagined running. Just running. I was alone for a few minutes, while Eric and Asher were still taking care of business. It was just a flash, a momentary indulgence, of what it would be like to be child-less again. To be husband-less again.

As I felt the rush of excitement, noticing the warm outdoors and the women without children walking outside, I thought, maybe I could do it. Just through those doors would be....freedom.

Yet, I kept walking towards the gift shop, one of the few in the world that I absolutely love - for it's eco-friendly products, interesting veg-head cookbooks, and beautiful nature art. I bought both my mom and mom in-law (one of three), handmade origami (redundant?) pins from this shop last year.

Anyhoo...what did I do when I entered the shop? Immediately, without hesitation, went straight to the kids' section. I browsed the childrens' toys, laughing to myself as I imagined Asher playing with a plastic frog that could spit water. I continued to browse, envisioning him playing in the dirt with a tiny green shovel, planting his first little garden, and so on.

A few minutes later, my husband and son appeared in the store. And the huge smile which had been on my face (for the entire day), reached a little farther towards its giant sun.

Even on Mother's Day, maybe, especially on this day, I can dream of a life without my family. A life without entanglements and commitments. Without the recent tantrums, the tension, the constant decisions on how to raise a child, the challenge of being a wife and a mother simultaneously. But, my family is just that - the giant sunshine that pulls me out bed in the morning, that nourishes my soil, and my soul.

Because of them, I smile so broadly my cheeks could crack; I run towards life; I reach to the sky, like an oak.