In a few weeks, I will have a 16-year-old, a 9-year-old, a five-year-old and a three-year-old.
My heart aches. I can feel all the muscles in my heart tense up every time I let the weight of that statement rest on my shoulders.
As I dramatically deal with this closing season of my life, like any good leo would, admiring the new lines on my thirty five year old, and a half, almost face, the veins in my hands threatening to show their age at any moment.
I am still young, but no man, I’m not.
That makes the grief easier to manage. The overwhelming sadness that clouds my brain when I think about not holding these small humans in my arms, and wrapping them up in safe magic love.
I have just decided to keep wrapping my kids up in safe magic love until they are at least a strange o pre-teen and don’t like people touching them.
I will still be at that time, putting them in modified Bank statements, and The Mom clutch submission.
That little feminist girl who wanted to move mountains. That little girl who said boys should be locked in cages, and only used for procreation.
She is having a rough time adjusting to this house wifery life.
I get it, but I’m over it at the same time.
Dealing with your inner child is always an interesting ride.
I get doubtful. I learn lessons from fear based decisions, but I keep telling myself…
My Time is Now (John Cena voice, five knuckle shuffle status.)
Trusting yourself is such a hard lesson to master.
I think all the time about what I want them to say about me when they are old, and going through our family house after sending me off to the other side. Mostly weeping because, I was the G.O.A.T.( but being really excited to have me enter their dead people posse.)
Am I being who I want them to remember?
When the answer there is no I know I have to get to work. Checking the things in my life against the goal.
This isn’t just for Mothers, homeschoolers, or thirty-five-year-old woman yearning for youthful skin to stick around for as long as possible.
This is for everyone.
Do what you love, unapologetically. It will be hard.
It is so hard to just give into love.
This Motherhood thing, nine years into this gig, and I am finally getting it. Finally getting it because my last baby is moving on to a new stage. Everyone around here is growing up, and if that doesn’t give this whole surrender to love shit a sense of grave urgency I don’t know what does.
Capricorn season is upon us.
Let’s get it.