Growing Up.

Monday, March 31, 2014

That's how I feel about this week of April.
There's still a little Winter on the road,
Spring is around the bend.  
It's warming up finally, but the world is dirty and brown and gray.
No more skiing and no green grass.
Just waiting.
I wait with angst and a furrowed brow. 
Knowing what I want, not sure what to expect.
For now, life keeps moving forward, always.
Profound moments of motherhood seem to be coming at me at break neck speeds.  I can't keep up.
My children are so curious and seem to be so much more aware than I ever was at their age. 
And watching my children grow and bypass new stages is always bittersweet.
Some days I am grateful and present and accepting of the constant change.
Other days, totally depressed and forlorn for my babies as they once were. . .babies.

With every new discovery I observe with my children,
I am forced to accept how fast this life moves.
It's beautiful but I hate it.
Grace has graduated from a room of pink, to purple.
"Yeah, Pink's not really my thing anymore, mom."
My heart sinks a little.
I'm not a huge fan of pink either, but she's growing up.
She knows what she wants.
How quickly already she's moved from baby doll's and Barbies, 
to bedroom dance parties and bracelet making, writing in her journal and playing "college" with the neighbor girl.
(Thankfully this creative play doesn't include binge drinking and poor decision making.)
Simply pretending to be independent and a grown woman.
Jack, well he's 9.  But practically a man.
He has to be poked and prodded awake in the morning,
like a pubescent teen.
Unable to move lanky limbs hanging heavily over the edges of his little twin bed,
without the forceful coercing of an irritated mother.
But he's catching on to the ways of the world and knows just how to work his mother over. . .usually with a charming smile,
now that he can meet me eye to eye.
And Charlie.  My heart.  
My optimist and easily excitable adventurer.
With more creativity and imagination in one foot, 
then all five of us put together.
It is the most grey, drab, brown and dismal day in Spring.
As the dirty melting snow gives way to even dirtier brown grass.
Charlie bikes up and down the sidewalk in his Santa PJ's, 
sock-less and in loafers, proclaiming, 
"MOM!  It's such a beautiful day today!  
Maybe we could go for a walk!  It's so warm!!!"
Every day is his lucky day.
So simple and happy.
And there's me.  Still holding on.
Yearning but conscious.
Annoyed but grateful.
Sad but focused.
A cornucopia of emotions, as flaky as the weather,
until I settle in to a new season.
I feel boundless with the freedom of having school-age children.
But still have parts gripping to the life that seemed it would never end. . .diapers and bottles and sleepless nights.
Looking back. . ."Wait!  But. . .wait!  Hit rewind!" 
I'll let go completely, when I'm ready.  I'm getting there, slowly but surely.
Until then, we soak up those rare and fleeting moments where they're tucked in close like the used to be.
Where they're still under our roof. . .and control.
As I draw the curtains at night,
peer from the second floor window down below, the way the light over the front stoop illuminates the snow creeping away from the sides of the house,

it's hard to imagine green grass and warmer days, lush trees and birds chirping.  
But the I realize it's not my job to predict or anticipate.  
Simply to practice being and accepting what is.  
Trusting the landscape will change again, on its own time. 
That all I can do is change too.


gabbygrace said...

peaceful, inspiring and forlorn....great post

Post a Comment