One of my favorite things about living in this new/old house (new to us/actually 101 years old) is our morning ritual. One or more of the girls pile into bed with me, and for a few precious minutes, we snooze and snuggle quietly, listening to our particular tangle of suburban morning sounds through the open windows:
- Birds calling, woodpeckers occasionally attacking the house.
- Cars carrying human early birds to work, I imagine with steaming, no-spill commuter mugs of coffee in hand.
- The unmistakable, metallic sound of a driver hitting a golf ball. (Lest you think I am some country-clubber, let me reassure you by saying that last I checked, Minnesota had more golf courses per capita than any other state. So they’re pretty much squeezed in everywhere.)
This morning, when I attempted to sit up and make my way to the bathroom, my three-year-old pulled me back down, saying, “No, you’re too snugglish!” Of course that bought her several more minutes. Mmmm. My version of heaven. I love the way she burrows into me, trying to get ever closer.
Lately I’ve been hyper-aware of the temporary nature of things, and taking the time to appreciate everything. I know my girls won’t always be 7 and 3. They won’t always like snuggling. They won’t always like me. Heck, we may even move across the country again (but not anytime soon, believe you me).
And just as my trees and garden show the passing of time, from summer into fall, so does… my face. I’ve been noticing with horror some new lines and bags under my eyes that, in certain lights, make me look like my uncle Jim. (No offense intended to my beloved uncle, you understand. It’s just a family resemblance that’s popped up out of nowhere.)
Which reminds me — I saw a post this week by my hilarious bloggy friend Jillian that made me laugh… in it, she was noticing things about her body she wanted to change:
As I got dressed the other morning, with eyes half shut so as not to offend myself, I evaluated my torso in the mirror.
I may just have to try this. That way, I can keep the so-so image I have of myself in my mind, and not be bothered with silly things, like the truth or objectivity or endless trips to the gym. Ignorance is bliss, right?
Let me get right down to it. Turning 40 this month was indeed something I’d been dreading, even as I tried, tried, tried to embrace it. I thought I’d be moved to write something profound about it. (Well, profound to me.)
Turns out, I wasn’t.
So, rather than feeding the build-up and making an even bigger/fatter/hairier deal out of it, I just sat back and let it happen. To me, it felt more like I was driving by in a car, waving out the window as I passed this milestone.
Yet another moment in time, lost in the rearview mirror.
Photo Courtesy: Kourosh Azar
7 Comments
September 23, 2009 at 2:16 pm
Beautifully written, Lea!
You’re so right about the transitory nature of things. It hit me the hardest the last day of college. Suddenly it was over. No fanfare. Just over. Bam. What now?
I too watch my kids with a bittersweet mix of love and premature regret, already picturing them as teenagers slamming the door in my face.
And isn’t it odd how we start to look like our older relatives as we age? The MALE ones? *sigh*
September 23, 2009 at 2:59 pm
Thank you so much for your time and attention, Heather! It’s amazing how many directions we can go in, in one day… so I feel lucky that you actually made it here.
Well said: “I too watch my kids with a bittersweet mix of love and premature regret, already picturing them as teenagers slamming the door in my face.” That is exactly how I feel. Is it because we’re not 25-year-old moms?
And I’m just waiting for the male facial hair to start coming in. Well, coming in thicker…
September 24, 2009 at 7:52 am
You are but a young pup still and I can tell by your photo that you will age very gracefully!
It’s funny the varying comments that I got on that post. My mother did not appreciate my vanity nor my obsession with my body. She would prefer for me to focus on the intellectual. Mothers!!!
Having little ones around keeps us younger and more vital and then as they get older, especially with boys, the aging process speeds up with the worry and the stress.
So much to look forward to — but in the meantime, let’s keep snuggling and feeling young.
September 28, 2009 at 12:38 pm
Jillian, thanks for this… and yes, let’s keep on feeling young! I remember asking my grandmother many years ago (she was in her 80s) — “How old do you feel inside?” And she said she felt about 35. Isn’t that a kick? As our bodies head downhill (no matter how many crunches, bootcamps or triathlons we do — it will happen!), I think our mental agility and flexibility is more and more important.
So could it be that your mother is (gasp)… right?!
September 28, 2009 at 11:54 am
Great post Leah! This week I was editing a video we are making for my song “Child of Sunshine” and I was shocked thinking “When did I inherit my grandmother’s face? When did that double chin happen? Are those jowls?” Things are getting softer all around. My prayer is that somehow my personality gets rounder, softer and “more snugglish” as my body does. Smiles and laughter make up for a lot of wrinkles
September 28, 2009 at 12:33 pm
Hi Amy! It’s so nice to hear from you here. I was just thinking of you yesterday, when I finally unearthed your book from our move! I love your idea of your personality changing, becoming “rounder, softer and more snugglish” as your body does. Perfectly said. And I agree about the smiles and laughter, too!
I don’t remember if I properly thanked you for the CDs and book. I let my neighbor borrow your book (“Transformational Mothering”) — she had just been through a miscarriage — and she found it to be very helpful. I love it, too! And the CD you included for my father-in-law was kind beyond words. Thank you again!
Can’t wait to see your new video — will it be on your site? Hope you are well. xo
September 28, 2009 at 5:43 pm
Boy, did you ever bring back the memories of my own “snugglish” days! It’s so bittersweet to look at my towering 15 and 17-year-olds and think about how they used to be so little, getting up in the morning, and stumbling only half-awake into my hubby’s and my bedroom to squish their warm bodies between us on our bed. (Sigh) Yup, treasure those moments up!