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.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
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.
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.
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.
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