Life has been a little higgledy-piggledy lately. When things are in such state, my creative juices tend to move towards fiber crafting. It feels concrete and substantive with a marked beginning and ending, unlike most of life’s conundrums. This quality is quite comforting.
Happy Thanksgiving! May your eyes be open to the bounty of blessings in your corner of the world.
One morning this week while driving to work I finished my audio book and had to listen to the radio. Well, I suppose, I didn’t have to listen to the radio, but at the time it seemed like an attractive option. Rarely do I listen to the radio outside of NPR or the local station to get weather and traffic updates, so I spun the figurative dial (seek buttons) listening for something worth hearing.
I landed on a song that instantly transported me to another place and time in my life. I think I’ve even written about it before, but it’s been a few years and here I am a little closer to the end of my life than the beginning and so the memory begins to take on a different patina. The song was by early 90’s hair band, Extreme. In my mind, I traveled back to the top of mountain in Tennessee, evening, stars so close you thought you could touch them. The air was cool but slightly damp because we were sitting close to the edge of wood.
Spiritual Life I wish I had some profound and provoking thoughts on turning 40. I don’t. Most of my thoughts lately have run to things such as, “am I too old to have long hair?” One day, pulled on a tank top and thought, “Am I too old to wear tank tops?” My husband assures me, I’m not, on both counts. One has to admit that the lines have been blurred quite a bit. Jane Fonda is the latest example. Frankly, I don’t think it seemly for any woman at any age to “show off her waist and butt,” but perhaps I’m a bit of a prude.
As I said, I don’t have any profound thoughts on turning 40. Probably half of my life is behind me now, and that’s a little odd. There are regrets. But I don’t know anyone who doesn’t have those. So today, I woke, got dressed, said my prayers and exercised. And like any other day, we’ll just have to see what comes up next.
God bless you all!
Birthday All three children are at camp. They’ll be there for two weeks and while many parents might be jumping for joy at the prospect of 2 childless weeks, I have felt a little weird about it. I’ve always wanted to be a mother. I like being a mother. Don’t get me wrong, when I get some time to myself, I enjoy and savor every moment. However, those previous times of solitude have been when the kids were at the grandparents or with friends. I could get my hands on them in 15 minutes if I wanted to.
This time, they are a 3 1/2 hour drive away and completely out of my “zone.” Most parents (I think I’m not alone at least) have a sort of invisible boundary line when out with their children. You don’t have to see them to know that they’re close by. Once you “feel” them move out of that zone, you start looking around, wondering where they are. The kids are way out of my “zone” and it feels, well, weird.
Parenthood The mister and I finished catching up on last season’s CSI episodes on Friday night. (If we didn’t have a DVR, we would be completely out of touch!) When the program finished we ended up on a channel showing the 1981 Clash of the Titans. The scene showed Perseus looking towards the shore of the River Styx with its entry to Hades and, of course, a monstrous dog.
“I think that dog’s name is Cerberus,” I said.
Jim looked at me incredulously. “I’m pretty sure it’s Cerberus.” I said again.
“You would know that because you’re a nerd.”
“Yeah, I am,” I replied. “I’ve come to accept that in my old age. I’m pretty much a nerd who always read too much…”
I guess after you’ve been married for 13 years you can say such things to each other and not get mad about it.
Married Life I don’t often talk about my job here. My work as a speech-language pathologist for a non-public school serving developmentally and emotionally disabled children requires that I respect their privacy. However, I think it may be possible to speak in such general terms that I could possibly make a few remarks.
To say the job is challenging would be an understatement. The laws surrounding special education require a related service provider such as me to almost be superhuman. One can’t get sick or have family emergencies because the students one serves must get their services at all costs. It’s the law, friends! However, there is another law written on our hearts that makes this job all the more challenging. If I fail these kids, they lose the ability to make the connections in their lives that really matter.
As I’m making strides to return to all things “primal” and generally reject the “convenience at any cost” anthem chanted around me, I thought I should do something about this unnatural-foot-shape-business. But I can’t stand going barefoot: I feel every last little spec of dirt, total sensory overload… I’m constantly wiping the [whatever] off my feet, which means my hands have foot all over them all the time… drives me insane. Not to mention that living in my neighborhood presupposes that I’ll have a nail or two pulled from a tire at least once a quarter; what would happen to my feet if I ran around all primally? Besides, most people’s feet are ugly —mine definitely are— and who wants to look at ugly? However, a happy medium was to be found…
New developments are arising here at the neepeople domicile. News flash! Ana has pimples. These are the only sign thus far that puberty may be just around the corner. Fortunately, they haven’t caused much of a stir. Ana has learned the importance of washing her face with a mild soap and applying a little benzoyl peroxide cream. I can’t believe my little girl is growing up! It seems like yesterday she was a chubby faced cherub with bright, big eyes and golden curls. Now, she cares about nail polish and earrings, has decided tastes in music and is capable of very grown up conversation.
Family Life David, my youngest son, has always had a particular affinity for super heroes. When he was between the ages of 2 and 3, I had to beg him to remove a Superman costume he wore every day so that I could wash it. At times, David has actually been convinced that he could fly. Once, he even constructed wings from two un-bent coat hangers and trash bags and asked if he could try to fly off the front porch. One of the greatest compliments he ever paid me was to draw a picture of a woman in a cape with the caption, “My mom is a hero.” I carry that little picture with me in my wallet every day.
Imagination, children 
