In less than 24 hours I will begin my 46th revolution around the sun. Typically, my birthday is great cause for celebration for at least a week or two, but honestly, tonight, I feel like shit. Earlier today, I had to leave my husband and thankfully, that is a task that never gets easier. In this moment, I am burdened by the knowledge that we have both spent the last seven days and innumerable dollars, trying to create happy memories for my children during their Spring Break recess. Our efforts have been rewarded by two boys who fought almost continuously, periodically talked back to us in disrespectful tones and cried every night for their daddy in a way that I doubt they ever cry for me.
Of course, during the last seven days we also managed a trip to the Hard Rock Cafe, a Jimmy Buffett concert and our first major league baseball game, the Tampa Rays vs. the Chicago White Sox. In between these events, we slept late and rode bikes and laughed and ate huge, juicy, locally grown strawberries every morning for breakfast. And today, I have safely traveled back "home", started washing the dirty clothes and begun to make the to-do lists that will direct the next few days of my re-entry. And I have posted the undeniable proof of our most excellent Spring Break Trip on Facebook. But there are parts of me that still yearn for perfection, or at least a more reasonable facsimile of perfection.
I want to be thinner and smarter and a better manager of money. I want to exercise more, worry less and be more appreciative of the blessings of my life. More than any of that, I want to stop hearing hurtful words coming out of my mouth when I am rebuking my children. I want to protect them from certain phrases and tones, yet it is those voices that reverberate on my worst days. I wonder if they will ever know that I cry for them on nights like tonight? I wonder if they will ever know, deep in the recesses of their hearts, that none of my 16,425 days thus far would be as meaningful if I had not had the chance to be their Mom? Because sometimes, even on the night before my birthday, I feel very frightened.
But if I have learned anything at all in the past 45 revolutions it is this: The only defense we have against fear is gratitude. And the only thing we can control is our response to the happenings in our lives. Tonight, my beautiful boys are healthy and their tummies are full and they are warm and sleeping in peace. And tonight, my amazing, generous husband is healthy and cool and sleeping in peace. I am the only one of us who is still awake worrying and fretting...and that makes me the lucky one.
I once read a story about a mother who stressed over the details of creating an absolutely perfect birthday party for her one-year old....the cake, the decorations, the guest list, the gifts. Except that when the party started her daughter was sleeping. And then, when she did awaken to a house full of strangers and her mother's expectations, she was overwhelmed and fussy. However, there was one picture from the party where the Mom was holding her daughter as she blew out the candle and in her mind, that picture was perfection...or a reasonable facsimile. To wit, the mother concluded that parenting was going to mean that 95% of her time would be spent in preparation and planning for the 5% that would be pure magic. I tend to agree with that assessment, although having been working this gig for more than ten years now, some days I am actually able to appreciate what a privilege it is to be planning for magical beings!
The most spectacular moment of our vacation occurred Sunday night when my daughter-in-law and son-in-law prepared a birthday feast for me. The food was unbelievable and my only job was to drink a most excellent glass of wine and be served at a beautifully set table. Before dinner, my granddaughter, who is 3, sang the blessing she learned at pre-school. After dinner my grandson, who is almost 2, actually gave me a kiss and sang "Happy Birthday" to me. And my own sons, 10 and 8, wore clean polo shirts and behaved with their best manners for the entire 2 1/2 hours that we were there*. I had cake and ice cream and thoughtful presents that were given to me by people who know me well and love me unfailingly. It truly felt as if my very existence in their lives was being celebrated. Which is more than some people get in an entire lifetime, much less during the course of one dinner.
I sincerely thank each of you that takes the time to read the ramblings that chronicle what I think, feel and ponder and I deeply appreciate the weight of the emotions you absorb for me as I unload them in these posts. You allow me to travel more lightly and live with a level of perspective that can come only from sharing and examination. It is my hope that 46 will be the year that I focus more on gratitude and peace than worries and weight. But alas, these are the gifts I must learn to give myself.
* I know that on paper I appear to be a mathematical mystery. Suffice it to say that my husband is considerably older than me and that my grandchildren have been graciously shared with me by his daughter and her husband.
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