I am 40 years, 8 months, and 20 days old as of this post. To everyone else, I am a grownup. Adult. Woman. But somewhere inside of me I hold the belief that everyone knows better than I. Everyone knows more. Everyone knows How to Be. This makes me feel very small, figuratively speaking. When I was five, I wanted to be a veterinarian. I loved animals, especially dogs and horses. Somewhere in my growing up I stopped wanting to be a vet, but nothing else really replaced that aspiration. Except art. I loved art, all kinds, and would spend forever drawing my own comic books (where those are now I have no clue). I remember my Crayola lazy-Susan style utopia of art supplies. I sat at the yellow counter in my basement playroom and Made Stuff. In high school, I took every art class St. Joseph's Academy had to offer. I wouldn't say I was great, but I loved it. College came around and I went to Portfolio Days l...
Tonight I went dancing. Not the "fellas at the club" type of dancing, but the "promenade and swing and try not to run into anyone and onetwothree onetwothree will the room ever stop spinning" type of dancing. It was amazing. It was uplifting. It was refreshing. It smelled a bit, but I loved it. I had no idea that my calves could sweat. One apple and some peanut butter later (how many days now without an Extra Value Meal?), I lay here in my bed, head throbbing, listening to GreenWarrior snoring, and experience, for the second Saturday in a row, the exhaustion that comes from pure exhilaration. Pure, absolute-my abs hurt from laughing and my legs hurt from dancing-exhilaration. Why on God's Green Earth didn't I do this before? I seriously need to go contra dancing again. No one ever told me that I could feel this completely and utterly tired and yet happy at the same time. I could completely pass out yet I am still high from all of...
Eeyah, GreenWarrior, The Boy...the Incredible Human I Get to Claim as My Son Note: Ten years ago, in the chilly wee hours of a February morning, I gave birth to my firstborn, whom we refer to online (usually) as Green Warrior. However, my second child, The Girl, affectionately named him "Eeyah" though I am fairly certain she is capable of correctly pronouncing his first name. She is nearing two, he is ten. I do not "get" the Green Warrior reference completely, so I, for ease of use, hereby declare the title of his persona in the World Wide Web...Eeyah. I think I might type Eea for short. Just thought I'd clarify. Eea is amazing. Incredible. Unbelievable. And sometimes just damn confusing. His startling intelligence and loving disposition make up for the amount of frustration I feel when doing what I refer to as my "mom job." I know most parents are supposedly biased and tout their own offspring as the smartest, cutest, s...
Comments
Post a Comment