Category: Year 44

13

~ Ginger ~ Leave a comment

They turn 13 in 40 minutes.

My tiny babies, now both taller than me, will be teens.

Babyhood is long gone. The last moments of childhood are quickly slipping away.

This transition feels the hardest of all the transitions. Those first days, weeks, months are still so vivid. Piles of diapers folded and waiting, the endless laundry, a counter full of bottles. Holding tiny babies in the dead of night.

Tiny hands gripping my finger. Arms stretched high, begging to be lifted into my arms. Giggles. Therapy….endless days of therapy.

Tiny boys that grew day by day, until one day in May they were suddenly my height. It didn’t last long. Each day of summer they grew and now both are taller than me. When they walked in front of me today I noticed it more than ever.

It’s not just their height, many things are changing now. One takes it in stride. One fights it.

Sweet boy…there is no reason to fight it. You can’t stop it. Trust me, if there was a way I would have found it.

Or…maybe I wouldn’t. We laugh at the same jokes. We have deep conversations. They have thoughts and ideas all their own. I see glimpses of the men they will become and I like what I see. It is exciting.

I wouldn’t mind tucking a sweet baby head under my chin one more time. But I also don’t mind a sweet kiss on my cheek as one or the other whispers he loves me as he grabs his dinner plate.

Stuck

~ Ginger ~ Leave a comment

My words feel stuck in my head tonight. They are swirling and chaotic.

I have written and deleted 4 posts now.

The words I type are rambling and when I read them I realize they aren’t the words I really want to type.

These are the times that always derail my journaling or my blogging.

So tonight I acknowledge the words that want to come but just cannot find their way to the screen tonight.

Maybe tomorrow.

44

~ Ginger ~ 1 Comment

Hello 44. You arrived at midnight. I was staring at the clock waiting for the numbers to flip over as I listened to my very congested husband snore so loudly I wasn’t sure how I would ever fall asleep.

The day wasn’t spectacular. I have two sick kids and a sick husband…and parents. Apparently they are all sharing their cold germs. I drove to work to get my stack of paperwork so I could work from home. I cleaned the kitchen. I drove to two different stores to find medicine for the sick people. I made tacos for dinner. I watched some of the Olympics. I listened to Podcasts. I made time for working on my stitching project (more than I normally would on a Monday). I ate cake.

Everyone felt bad that I didn’t have a spectacular birthday. But I don’t know…it didn’t feel so bad.

It rained this morning. It wasn’t 100 degrees outside. The house was quiet most of the day. It felt like my life and I like my life. I have more than I need. I was with the people I love. I didn’t feel sad or disappointed. I did feel angry at the laundry basket that I tripped over at least 3 times today.

All day I have been contemplating what I want for year 44. I keep thinking how next year it will be 45 and that feels big. Really the next 5 years feel big. The boys turn 13 in a few weeks and over the next 5 years we will steadily march through their teen years until we hit 18 and get ready to launch them into the world. My motherhood feels fleeting. I can almost see it like a sped up movie when they show the transition from babies to toddlers to children to teens to them leaving home.

I find myself wondering who I will be next. Motherhood and homeschooling has been all consuming. But soon it will be time to come back to myself. It feels like an opportunity to mindfully choose who and how I want to be. I have these years to decide and start growing into that person.

I think all of this is to say that I want (or need) 44 to be about finding the seeds I wish to plant and nurture over the next 5 years. I think 44 will be about writing here and on paper, thinking deeply, and trying out ideas. 44 feels quiet and contemplative, much like my birthday has been today.