Today was a good day.
Not because of anything that happened (or didn't happened), but because for the first time in four years of having a crazy schedule every day, I decided to NOT plan on anything going according to plan. And when it didn't (as it always does), I just thought, Oh, I knew that was going to happen and shrugged and went on wondering what new twist my day would take. In fact, it was sort of like fighting the ripe-tide, a super duper exhausting endeavor when really, the tide is going to pull you out and then, a few hundred yard (or miles) it will sweep you back in again. Just sit back and enjoy the tug of powers way greater than you and trust that at some point, you'll get your bearings again.
Well, it turns out, it was a pretty great ride. Nothing like I thought. I got what I absolutely needed to get done (birthday gifts to special friends and dinner made and kids to their various activities). No cleaning. No errands. No reading. I did, however, get a short nap when I sat down for a few minutes to wait for the unexpected carpet stretchers to finish (they rang the door bell and I jumped up guiltily and pretended I had just dozed off instead of in the midst of a mile deep sleep and like a drunkard lead them back down stairs to look at their work). Another unexpected thing . . . but a good one, eh?
I feel like I've been thinking that a lot lately, "Well . . . that was unexpected . . ." and often, usually, it's for the good kind of unexpected. The kind that sort of throws new doors in your brain open and sometimes you can't quite figure out how you're going to process it, but you know you want to.
Take for instance Finnegan. He's seven now. He still crawls on my lap and needs me to kiss him five times before he goes to sleep, but then I listen to him play with Piper or his friends, and I'm floored by what he's telling them. They're having complex conversations about dealing with a cranky friend or how tigers hunt or tonight, when he sat next to Phoebe and told her, "I want to tell you when and how I got my blood blister at school to day. Phee, are you listening?" and reached over to gently take her arm so she'd stop Instagramming for one blessed second. I know this doesn't sound that crazy, but it's odd to me that my littlest creature is not really my creature anymore. He's his own thing. They all are. These five children of mine are these amazing creatures (emphasis on creature . . . they are not totally tame and are very VERY unpredictable) who keep me thinking, Wow, now that was unexpected.
I like it.
Today, my "unexpected" moment came in the form of Phoebe, on the way to ballet, saying, "I really don't like people thinking I'm smart."
"Why?"
"Because I'm a lot more things than smart. Everyone is smart if they try . . . even a little bit. I just try a little bit and then I do well on test. But anyone could. I'm not that special or smart. I just work a little. I'm more than smart, Mom. I really am."
"I know Phoebe. You're way more . . . in fact, I would say that your smarts are the least awesome part of you. You are . . .."
Yep. Unexpected, but what a fun conversation.
That's what you get with kids . . . whether you've got five or one, they give you unexpected moments of insight and perception and challenge.
You also get moments, like when you check a certain oldest child's grades and see a lovely row of F's. Oh, the "unexpected" feelings that rise then . . . strong is the word I'd apply there.
I am find I'm also unexpectedly pleased with getting older.
"Well, you've got one last year before you're officially old," I thought to myself when I woke up on my 39th birthday. And then I smiled. Because, Nancy was right when she told me, years ago, "Oh, my thirties were filled with anxiety about so much. But my late thirties and early forties, that's all gone. I'm so fine with life, with me."
I'm so fine. Sooooo fine.
I have time.
I have energy.
I have wisdom about what I like and what I don't.
I have learned how to laugh . . . a lot . . . especially at myself.
The day, it doesn't have to go according to plan. I'm beginning to see, just a little, that it's the unexpected twist and turns and tugs that actually make life into . . . life.
Finn's self portrait
Whose children are these? Next three are from our latest family Road Trip to Pacific Northwest
Astoria
Not because of anything that happened (or didn't happened), but because for the first time in four years of having a crazy schedule every day, I decided to NOT plan on anything going according to plan. And when it didn't (as it always does), I just thought, Oh, I knew that was going to happen and shrugged and went on wondering what new twist my day would take. In fact, it was sort of like fighting the ripe-tide, a super duper exhausting endeavor when really, the tide is going to pull you out and then, a few hundred yard (or miles) it will sweep you back in again. Just sit back and enjoy the tug of powers way greater than you and trust that at some point, you'll get your bearings again.
Well, it turns out, it was a pretty great ride. Nothing like I thought. I got what I absolutely needed to get done (birthday gifts to special friends and dinner made and kids to their various activities). No cleaning. No errands. No reading. I did, however, get a short nap when I sat down for a few minutes to wait for the unexpected carpet stretchers to finish (they rang the door bell and I jumped up guiltily and pretended I had just dozed off instead of in the midst of a mile deep sleep and like a drunkard lead them back down stairs to look at their work). Another unexpected thing . . . but a good one, eh?
I feel like I've been thinking that a lot lately, "Well . . . that was unexpected . . ." and often, usually, it's for the good kind of unexpected. The kind that sort of throws new doors in your brain open and sometimes you can't quite figure out how you're going to process it, but you know you want to.
Take for instance Finnegan. He's seven now. He still crawls on my lap and needs me to kiss him five times before he goes to sleep, but then I listen to him play with Piper or his friends, and I'm floored by what he's telling them. They're having complex conversations about dealing with a cranky friend or how tigers hunt or tonight, when he sat next to Phoebe and told her, "I want to tell you when and how I got my blood blister at school to day. Phee, are you listening?" and reached over to gently take her arm so she'd stop Instagramming for one blessed second. I know this doesn't sound that crazy, but it's odd to me that my littlest creature is not really my creature anymore. He's his own thing. They all are. These five children of mine are these amazing creatures (emphasis on creature . . . they are not totally tame and are very VERY unpredictable) who keep me thinking, Wow, now that was unexpected.
I like it.
Today, my "unexpected" moment came in the form of Phoebe, on the way to ballet, saying, "I really don't like people thinking I'm smart."
"Why?"
"Because I'm a lot more things than smart. Everyone is smart if they try . . . even a little bit. I just try a little bit and then I do well on test. But anyone could. I'm not that special or smart. I just work a little. I'm more than smart, Mom. I really am."
"I know Phoebe. You're way more . . . in fact, I would say that your smarts are the least awesome part of you. You are . . .."
Yep. Unexpected, but what a fun conversation.
That's what you get with kids . . . whether you've got five or one, they give you unexpected moments of insight and perception and challenge.
You also get moments, like when you check a certain oldest child's grades and see a lovely row of F's. Oh, the "unexpected" feelings that rise then . . . strong is the word I'd apply there.
I am find I'm also unexpectedly pleased with getting older.
"Well, you've got one last year before you're officially old," I thought to myself when I woke up on my 39th birthday. And then I smiled. Because, Nancy was right when she told me, years ago, "Oh, my thirties were filled with anxiety about so much. But my late thirties and early forties, that's all gone. I'm so fine with life, with me."
I'm so fine. Sooooo fine.
I have time.
I have energy.
I have wisdom about what I like and what I don't.
I have learned how to laugh . . . a lot . . . especially at myself.
The day, it doesn't have to go according to plan. I'm beginning to see, just a little, that it's the unexpected twist and turns and tugs that actually make life into . . . life.
The balloon who haunted us all . . . it would float into a room and then slowly float out . . . or mostly, it would hang above Phoebe's bed when she woke up in the morning. Creeeepy!
Finn's self portrait
Four ladies who only get better as time goes by . .
My mom . . . who I become more like every day and I am glad of that
Unexpectedly stranded in a snow storm . . . with my sister
I'm lucky with my family . . .
Phoebe hates this picture, but I love it . . . "Potato face"
Ew. Dork. Love him.
Angry Leprechaun
Sly Leprechaun
Thirty nine never looked so good . . . Celia's birthday picture of me (if you can find me)
Whose children are these? Next three are from our latest family Road Trip to Pacific Northwest
Portland
Astoria
Astoria
Finn and Pips if you can find them.
Henry and his date
And we wonder why our kids are crazy . . .
Easter Egg hunt 2014
That thumb is broken? Oh, should I have taken him in three weeks ago when he started to complain? Yes? Oops.
Tonights dinner.
Thank you for writing, Mary! What an unexpectedly wonderful surprise for us who love you. The words and pictures are a perfect combination. And how I love the look of a table set for dinner. Abundance! Abundance in the unexpected.
ReplyDeleteExcellent, funny, wise writing, realistic optimism and spontaneous pictures of some of my favorite people--all this is NOT unexpected coming from my Mary. Love you. KEEP WRITING! (When you feel like it :-) )
ReplyDeletemary, i love your posts and your family (both your children and your family of birth)! it feels like home to read your ruminations. when i grow up, i want to be like you!
ReplyDeleteLife does get better if we surrender to the deeper currents. Unexpectedly wonderful!
ReplyDelete