Yesterday was my birthday and I am calling a do-over on the day because anyone who knows me at all knows that gifts are not my thing and all I ever really want is some time together with my people. Yesterday was full-scale Newlin run around and by the time Chris and I fell into bed at the end of it all he told me that he thought the sum total of our time together all 5 of us during the day was about 2 minutes on the same floor in the morning before taking the bigs to school. That was it and that won’t do so it has to be a do-over. With each other and also with cake. Obviously cake.
I did, however, get to go to a CrossFit class in the morning and an extra hot and humid 26+2 class in the evening and also if you know me I want to do all the movement that I love on my birthday too. If my birthday were in the summer I would probably also throw in a hike up a mountain so maybe it is good that I am relegated to the shortest days of the year and what is becoming increasingly disgusting December weather. Anyhow, it was fun. A proper Meg-a-thalon as Chris refers to it.
Today, while I was running out to pick up Eider from school, Chris sent me this pic of him and Freddy. Wilfred was on the tail end of his nap when I ducked out and of course he woke up almost immediately and then was in Chris’ meeting until I got home. I love this image because it totally sums up so much of the juggle of parenting Freddy right now. Chris is extra cute and smiling here but I know it frustrates him. There are a lot of mixed Freddy feelings lately. It is complicated. Cuz obviously we are nuts about the little dude. He is a total dream come true for me and I remember it every single day. And he is also a really big personality with a huge presence and a lot of big feelings. And he is always in our care. The only one that tends him other than one of us (which at one or two or sometimes even four people is A LOT and I know it and still…) and unfortunately we, all too often plop him in front of the tv- like right now while I take a minute to write for myself- and that is not my favorite way to care for him and his needs. Even so.
Every day I try to include something specific for him- something fun with other kids or at least some kind of adventure out of the house in which the majority of my attention is on him. This age is such a gift and I don’t want to miss any of it. Truly. And yet. I also have some hopes and dreams just for me that could use a little extra tending if they are ever going to make it from the little incubator of their seed form in my heart and out into the wide world. Which is why forest preschool was such an exciting prospect for Wilfred, and continues to be. But we also continue to be in the land of Poop Owies and I have yet to find a way of working through that with him. We are pretty tethered to the complication of his stress around pooping- let alone making the transition to the potty, despite being pee-potty trained for over a year. And while I can often see the humor of a poop being what stands between Wilfred and me and a little autonomous and focused time for myself, it still sometimes feels like it may never end and that the part of my life that is about me living into my work in the world is slipping through my forty-five-year-old fingers.
Birthdays stir that shit up more and more for me. You too? It just keeps on becoming more and more of a paradox with each turn of the calendar page, ya know. I am well aware that this aging thing is full on me totally winning at the whole show. Like isn’t this the point? To keep on living? And loving? And that means getting older and I am into all of it. I like getting older. My mind in general is becoming a more and more hospitable place to hang out the older I get. And yet, this skin suit / bag o bones is on a one-way decay track and even though I feel wildly healthy and vital and vibrant, that little edge of invincible that I remember feeling in my teens and 20s when the human growth hormone was coursing through my veins, is long gone. A memory. An idea. What remains is far more (metaphorically) juicy and interesting, nuanced and complex in ways that stir all parts of me. But it is still a mortal coil. A complication in my living that I feel a little more privy to around my birthday. The dark days of the season certainly don’t offer any relief inside of the reflection this time of year. Sometimes I wish I could spend December in the Southern Hemisphere, even just for one go-round.
So anyhow. What am I even saying here? Who knows. I am 45. I’m gonna eat some cake with my fam in the next couple of days. I have some ideas percolating and plans in the works. I love parenting my diverse mix of kiddos with my funny and wise and sexy and compassionate husband. I hope Freddy poops in the potty soon so he can get to go play with some other littles at forest preschool a few days a week and I can start another new business. Bah. I guess that is it. That’s what I have to say.