Life in General

Back to the Grind

Two days have whizzed by since we returned from Florida.  The trip home was itself a small slice of hell.  Our plane was four hours late leaving the airport, meaning we didn't arrive home until 2:00 a.m.  To add insult to injury, we had to dig the Charger out from under eight inches of snow that had fallen in our absence.   Jim's peronalized license plate on the car was the only thing visible, and it's message (In Chrg) was an ironic reminder of how little we really are- in charge, that is. Not of the weather, certainly, for it has continued it's snowy, blustery, murkiness ever since we got home.  The snow was swirling like a dervish this morning and there were cars spun out all over the road as I made my way to the office.

Not of our jobs, either, for mine has continued on it's perilous spin out of control.  Work, work, work...and never get caught up.  A control freak's nightmare.

But enough of all that.  It's Friday night, I'm home safe and sound with lots of recorded stuff on the TiVo.  Who watchs Big Love out there?  Did you see last Sunday's episode?  I was riveted to my chair - what will happen to those Henrickson's next, I ask you? 

I had two books waiting for me in the mail delivery - copies for review later on this month over at Bookstack.  As well as a shipment of my favorite coffee, to keep me warm and caffienated while I read.

Small and simple pleasures, but all part of the daily grind of which I am at least a little bit in charge.

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Hard Labor

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This is the week of my son's birthday, and there have been a rash of new births among my friends and their children.  So my mind turns to thoughts of labor and delivery, but also to labor in general.  What's the hardest work experience you've ever had?  What role does hard work play in your family history?  What's particularly hard about your work right now?  If you've given birth, what was that experience like for you? 

Write about

Hard Labor

Love-liest of Days

The penultimate thing I love about February is today -my son's birthday.  It's nearly impossible to imagine that 30 years have gone by since the morning I awoke a naive 23 -year old and went to bed 14 hours later a mother. Wow.

Becoming a mother isn't just about giving birth or changing diapers or toilet training or packing lunches or helping with homework or tying neckties or furnishing the dorm room or making the list for wedding invitations.  It's about loving someone more than you've ever loved anything on earth, about being willing to throw down the gauntlet before anyone or anything who might hurt them, about putting aside all your own fears and misgivings to support their hopes and dreams.  It's about turning your life upside down every single day if you have to for the rest of your life.

But it's also about feeling the deepest love and the most wonderful pride, it's about laughing the hardest you've ever laughed, and crying the most you've ever cried.  It's about a heart that bursts with joy one minute and pain the next.  It's about life in all its miraculous glory and deepest despair.

In short - it's amazing.

I was a young and stupid mother, wasn't prepared in any way, shape, or form to take on the responsibility of a child.  I was nothing like most young women today, who plan their pregnancy and childbirth to the hilt, who research all the latest gadgets and gizmo's, who arrange playdates and choose pre-schools before the ink on the birth certificate is even dry.  I didn't "register" for baby gifts, didn't interview my obstetrician, didn't choose environmentally friendly or safe substances for the nursery linens. 

My son was the first infant I'd ever held in my arms. 

But in spite of my ignorance, he grew- physically and mentally.  He was strong and healthy and smart and amazingly beautiful, with clear blue eyes and a stunning ability to think and create and imagine.

Thirty years later, he's all that and more.

Amazing.

So I count today as the love-li-est of all February days.  I wish I had been better prepared, had been smarter, stronger. I still wish for wisdom I don't always have to give.  But I'm more thankful than I can say for the end result, and for all the days in between.

Happy Birthday to my love-ly boy.

Write On Wednesday - True Love

I saw the most amazing movie yesterday - The Young Victoria, a cinematic portrait of Queen Victoria's ascension to the throne and her courtship with Prince Albert.  It's a small slice in the life of this long-lived and quite respected monarch, but it's a potent one.  For unlike many royal's Victoria did indeed marry for love, and the growing relationship between the two young people, their clear and obvious delight in each other's company, respect for each other's intelligence, and genuine concern and care for each other's needs, was not only beautifully romantic, but inspiring. The film ended as their first (of nine!) children was born.  And as I walked out of the theater, I couldn't help but think that their love story was only just beginning at that moment, and wish the film could go on and on into the rest of their lives together.  For as exciting and enchanting as fresh love is, it truly does become sweeter when it stands the tests of time.

Watching Victoria and Albert, still just teenagers when they first become acquainted and fall in love, I couldn't help but recall the early days of my own first love, when every moment together was charged with heady excitement, when each day held the anticipation of new discoveries, when each touch was electrified with meaning and desire.   It's not realistic to expect human beings to retain those kinds of feelings about the same person for decades and decades, and after 33 years of marriage, it's not always easy to reconnect with those feelings. 

While realistically one cannot return to those exciting moments of young love, I think you can reconnect with those feelings by coming to a deeper appreciation of what true love does become over time.  Being together for decades means surviving so many things - happiness' certainly, but also trials and tribulations.   Life changes, for good or ill, can test true love, but also strengthen and sweeten it.  Recalling all the times my husband has stood by me when I was sad, or lonely, or frightened, reflecting on the ways he has supported me emotionally and practically - these memories are just as sweet those of the times we've laughed together, or shared the pleasure of watching our son grow up, or savored moments on foreign hillsides or simple walks in the park.  Having this good and gentle man beside me for every moment of life, even when it (and I!) are at our most unlovable, still makes my heart flutter with excitement.

Standing the test of time is one of true love's greatest gifts.  It's easy to forget how rare and important that is, easy to let the day to day routine usurp the small, sturdy gestures that keep love alive.  I was touched by  Eternal Celebration, Blue Mist's story for Write On Wednesday this week, and the words of her character who says "Who remembers Valentines Day when you've spent 40 years in the marriage?"  But really, isn't 40 years of togetherness all the more reason to celebrate?  For love that lasts so long, through the roller coaster ride of modern life, is the truest kind of love indeed.