Middle Age

Walking out of the craft store today I caught a glimpse of someone. She looked familiar, but wasn't quite who I thought she was. A second look at my reflection, and yes, it was me.
I am a middle-aged woman.
And it shows.
It's funny, I don't think of myself as nearly 50. Good grief, I can remember when my Mom was fifty! But here I am, almost at the top of the hill, ready for the great ride down.
And while I remember the climb, it just doesn't seem possible that so much time has passed.
I don't think of myself as a mother of adults. But three of my four children are adults. My oldest son is almost the age I was when he was born. My younger son, almost the age I married. My daughter, the same age I was when I started college.
How could my baby be 14?
I'm not a young mother anymore. My sister is a grandma. My aunts and uncles are all gone, as is my father. My mom is 82.
And all of this happened in the blink of an eye.
Really. I'm serious. It happened that fast.
I'm not ready to curl up and wither away. In fact, I'm at the cusp of a whole new chapter in my life, one that includes rediscovering myself, my talents, my interests. One in which my husband and I will soon have all the time in the world together.
Alone.
Wow.
In some ways, I can't believe how much living has taken place in these 26 years of married life. All the holidays, birthdays, vacations, pets, happiness, tears, living and loving. And it's definitely not over, just, well, evolving.
So that middle-aged woman? The one who dyes her hair, wears sneakers and footsies with capris, and is kind of thick around the middle?
That is me.
And you know what?
I like her.

Hurry up and relax

This afternoon I took a nap.
A headache was coming on and my body, ever-achy from my EDS, just needed the rest.
And boy, do I feel better now.
I woke with renewed energy and well-being.
So of course, I vacuumed and dusted, walked the dog, cleaned the windows, folded laundry, mowed the grass, made a batch of jam, and talked on the phone about how busy I am.
Right?

Nope. Not me.
I ate two plums, contemplated what to make for supper, thought about when to do all of the above listed chores, and enjoyed the breeze wafting in my window while I watched the cat try to catch a fly.

Wow, what a wasted afternoon, huh? I didn't get anything done. I didn't feel frazzled or pulled a hundred different directions.
And I can't brag about how busy I was.

Somewhere along the line, our society seems to have come to value busyness for busyness' sake. I could completely rephrase my afternoon activities to make it sound as if I had been busy, busy, busy: I wolfed down two plums at the sink while browsing through my cookbooks, desperate to find a quick and easy meal to make for supper that would also use up my tomatoes. Then I hurriedly finished a book that's due at the library tomorrow, scheduled my weekend, and sat down for a second to catch my breath only to have the cat jumping all over me trying to catch a fly.

I would argue that far from being a waste of time, my afternoon was quite productive. I took the time to care for myself, enabling me to make a great dinner for my family this evening. (Stuffed tomatoes, millet souffle, and a giant chocolate chip cookie, in case you were wondering) I just finished a great fantasy novel that most of my family is reading, enabling me to pass on the book to the next person in line. While enjoying that breeze, I had time to just think a little, appreciate this glorious afternoon, and laugh at my ridiculous cat (he hasn't yet caught that fly). So I happened to be sitting here when my son came in, allowing me to have a nice conversation with him about his summer internship with the USDA, his plans for the evening, and do a little philosophizing about the world and its many ills.

When we take on too much, when we're just busy for busy's sake, we lose that opportunity to be at peace with ourselves, to experience the simple moments of every day in their entirety. We don't take proper care of ourselves, leaving us drained, frazzled, and emotionally raw, and unavailable.

I was talking with my daughter about college this morning, and I told her to have fun. Don't get so caught up in needing to be perfect, don't worry so much about every test, every class, every responsibility that you forget to enjoy the moment.

Life is right now. Right here. It's not tomorrow, or next week, or after the next promotion, or when we can quit that job, or buy that land, or whatever.
If you're overloading your life right now in the pursuit of some future goal, just be sure you know what you're giving up.
You may think it's worth it, and perhaps for you it is. But as the mother of 4 children, only one of whom is still a minor, I can tell you that time goes by so fast you'll likely feel you have whiplash.
And you can never regain those lost moments.
No achievement is worth losing yourself or slighting your family or friendships in the right here and now.

So, you know what? I wasn't overly busy today, and I won't be tomorrow, either. My work will get done, but not at the expense of myself or my family.
My life doesn't start tomorrow.
It's here.
Right now.
And I don't want to miss or mess up a moment of it

Strawberry Girl

The days are passing quickly. Soon we'll be counting the hours, then the minutes.
Another chick is soon to leave the nest, and though I once had someone with only one child tell me that it's got to be so much easier for me when the kids leave because I have more than one, that simply is not the case.
Just as each child is an individual, each child holds a place near and dear in my heart. A separate place all their own where I remember the first time I held them, the feel of their fuzzy newborn heads against my shoulder, first foods, first words, first day of school... and on and on.
Just as each of my children is unique, so too is my love for them.
Each one is precious him or herself.


My boys are now grown men, Stephen in grad school and Zachary a senior at Iowa State. Even their leaving each fall still isn't easy. But now my oldest daughter, Sarah, is about to head off to school at UNI. She's going the farthest from home, nearly two hours away.
I know many parents send their kids off across the country or even out of the country for college, but I'm not writing this to try to compare. For us, this is a huge distance, despite how easily it can be traversed.
Sarah is my strawberry girl, an easy baby, always quick with a smile.
She's grown into a lovely young woman, brimming with talent, intelligence, and a zest for life. She's been through a lot in her brief 18 years, but she's never failed to impress me with her resilience and determination.
I not only love my sweet Sarah, I admire her.


Soon our daily laughter, hugs, and sharing will be done via electronics.
And I know we'll both cry a bit as we say goodbye, and likely more once we've parted.
But I have every confidence in her ability to not only survive, but thrive in her independence.
And just as it has with my boys, our relationship will change. But the time has come for us to transition from the parent/child relationship to the parent/adult child relationship.
I know she's ready for this, even if she has doubts.
And despite the miles and the independence, she'll always be my baby.
Forever and for always, my strawberry girl.