Finding 40 to be Fabulous

Earlier this year I reached a life-changing milestone when I celebrated my 40th birthday.  My years of being a 30-something are now behind me and it feels oh-so-right.  I am at a really good place in my life just now.  I'm content with who I am and the life I've lived that has shaped me into being who that is.

In the weeks leading up to my 40th birthday, I spent time reflecting on what being a 30-something meant to me.  My 30's included giving birth to, and raising five amazing boys that challenge me, amuse me, and fill my heart to bursting.  They were years filled with being stretched to new proportions in love, patience and flexibility {both mentally and physically}.  More often than not, my time, my physical body, and my needs were not my own.  They are days I treasure beyond measure but they are also days I am content I am no longer living in the midst of anymore.  It didn't take me long to realize that approaching 40 was something to be embraced because all I have lived is imprinted in who I am now.

It was that final nudge I needed to strip away my concerns over what others might be thinking of me so that I can instead more fully embrace what has taught me, shaped me, and informed the person I am.  I am married to the love of my life. I am learning to discover and pursue my passions. I have sailed through many happy times, waded through struggles, suffered loss, dealt with sickness, known rejection, met people who have inspired me, felt the sting of loneliness, and learned that I need friends.  I know how to laugh at what tickles me, and how to cry when it hurts.  I've learned that there are times I should speak up more boldly and that sometimes it's okay to be silent.  I am a person who craves time alone, likes routine, could waste all day reading, is challenged by learning new things, and likes to talk {a lot}.  I struggle with self-esteem and self-confidence.  I am quite content to remain home for days on end.  I am very pleased that I am evolving from night owl to morning person.

Although it's been a slow process, I am learning to like who I am and change the things that don't make sense anymore.  I am a work in progress that has taken 40 years to get here but I finally feel I have something to offer the world {or at least the people close to me}.  I wouldn't want to give up any of the days of learning I've lived that have brought me here right now.  And for that reason alone, I embrace this new phase of life.

From the Sidelines

I watch them out there every week.  Skates laced tight, helmets on snug.  Concentration etched deeply on their brows as they manipulate their feet and bodies while maintaining their balance.  Arms and legs working together to achieve careful unity.  Week by week subtle improvements might be visible in one boy while another seems to still be struggling to balance properly when lifting a foot or turning precisely.  Some weeks one child will almost dazzle when he suddenly masters skating backwards.

Tonight is different.  The regular stations situated at each corner of the ice rink are left empty.  Rather than barriers, drills and practice, the ice is clear for a free skate.  It's beautiful watching them.  Amidst the skaters, small and big, skills vary over a wide degree.  Among our four boys alone, abilities and enjoyment are wide ranging.  Two short months of weekly lessons have brought dramatic changes for each of them.

Slowly their steadiness increases as their confidence grows.  From the sidelines I cannot differentiate which inspires the other - does confidence bring steadiness?   Or do they feel more confident when they achieve a greater level of steadiness?  Either way, the blossoming of success is wonderful to watch.

It was a good decision to enroll them in skating lessons this year.  When they began their abilities were mainly remaining upright and making forward momentum.  James and Morgan have quickly progressed gaining speed, fluidity and skills.  While Evan is progressing at a much slower pace, he's acquiring his own set of skills and is able to do much of what he is shown even if it is in his own awkward way.

But tonight was Nicholas's night to shine!  His determined, solid little body usually makes him appear as a tin soldier on ice skates - legs straight, arms pumping rigidly at his sides.  The moment his skates hit the ice tonight, there was a difference - he glided.  It was the first time I'd watched him move so easily across the cold surface.

At times like this I love sitting on the sidelines.  They learn, grow and accomplish while I have the great privilege of simply watching them.  So much of parenting is teaching and shaping little ones and all the joys and trials that come with it.  But sitting on the sidelines, ahhh, that provides lovely, (almost) uninterrupted moments of watching them experience their life.

Burdened With Inadequacy

There is a little piece of truth I hide from myself.  I keep it covered over just beyond the edge of my mind.  Once in awhile, when I'm not careful, it pops up and forces me to see it.  It's only there for a fleeting moment before I avert my gaze and cover it once again so I don't have to face it.

To be candid, if I face this truth full on, if I take it out and examine it, then I will not only have to do something about it, I will have to admit that I have failed.  And one of my biggest fears is failure.

This little piece of truth is not really all that little.  And I'm pretty sure that more than likely what I try to hide from myself is not at all hidden from anyone that knows me.  It's definitely not hidden from God.

But yet, I continue to deceive myself that as long as I don't look at this truth full on, it is not so.

The truth?  I cope.  

That's it.  I cope.  I spend each day getting things done that can no longer be left undone.  I feed people because they require sustenance to live.  I get children up and out the door because they have some place they have to be.  I attend appointments to keep us healthy or looking civilized.  I work because it is income.  I volunteer because it is the one last thread I am trying to hold on to that connects me to a world outside of my home.

Somehow, most things get done.  But they aren't usually done until they have to be done.  And then, they usually aren't done as well as I would want them to be done.   

And that is where I feel I fail.  Because I would like to do this thing called motherhood well.  I would like to do this project of homemaking well.  But I don't.  I dream, I plan, I attempt.  I fail.

I would like to have myself and my family and my home organized with a working routine established.  But I don't.  I would like to have all our meals planned ahead so I'm not scrambling by 5 pm.  But I don't.  I would like to have a cleaning schedule I follow faithfully so I am not up late the night before someone is coming over clearing piles and vacuuming.  But I don't. 

As I struggle with this seemingly endless burden of wallowing in unaccomplished failure, I have begun to ask myself a few questions.  Questions like, where did I get the idea of what our home and life should look like?  Who am I trying to be like?  Do the things I feel I should be doing better truly need changing?  Where does this burden of inadequacy and failure stem from?

I have no answers yet, maybe I never will for some of my questions, but I have started on a journey of trying to uncover who I am vs who I think I should be.  I have a feeling it's not going to be an easy journey.

And I really don't think I am alone.  I think feelings of inadequacy and failure is something that a lot of women struggle with.  Maybe if we stopped comparing ourselves to one another and supported each other instead we might just reshape our worlds.

Joyful Exuberance

Chubby 2 year old feet pound the hallway floor ahead of me.  No pitter-patter in this house.  Always loud.  Always fast.  Always joy in motion.  

Outstretched arms reach for walls just beyond the touch of your straining fingertips.  Making contact would only have slowed you down anyway.  But solid, sweet hands flutter regardless, feeling the wind created by your own speed.  Speed.  You feel so fast, so free.  An unquenchable squeal escapes as you turn your head to look over your shoulder.  As usual, you are checking to make sure I am following your lead.  Crinkled nose.  Sparkling blue eyes. Open-mouthed grin.  How could I possibly resist following?  

Lifting my knees in a march-style run designed purely to make you laugh; I bend my elbows and pump my fisted hands in a matching rhythm.  Just as I predicted, you find me irresistible.   Turning mid-stride, it is only by some miraculous maneuver that keeps you from tumbling backwards as you launch your small, wriggling body at me.  It's with a practiced reflex that lets me catch you midair and swing you above my head, laughing with you at your exuberance.

Bursting through the doorway together, we have completed the trek once more.  This dance we do down the hall with you in lead, me at your heels. It is a ritual of sorts really.  One perfected by the repetitive trips made daily to the bathroom at the end of the hall. 

It's one of those mommy-moments I never forethought in my daydreams of baby-bearing and rearing and all that would entail.  But it is a moment worth celebrating with each and every child born.  YAY you!   And it is no matter that together we visit that tiny room in our house countless times each day.  Every time we do it means you are a big boy now, all grown up and big enough to use the potty on your own, EVERY time!

Possibilities

It was a loooong time coming for James and Morgan.  We decided the multipurpose room downstairs would be renovated into a bedroom for the two of them to share.  However, the logistics behind that undertaking were extensive - at least for our limited space and the time we could designate to remodeling the room.

When Dylan was about four months old, the time had come for him to move out of our room.  The memories are a bit hazy, but I'm pretty sure I was still up with him when Luke's alarm was going off at 5:15 am.  I don't think I had even stretched out in bed that night; I was surprised Luke got any sleep at all between Dylan's fussing and my movements.  The next night I declared Dylan was sleeping in his own room!  It was an evening of bed-shifting: Dylan into the crib in Nicholas and Evan's room; Nicholas and Evan down the hall into James and Morgan's big boy bunk beds; James and Morgan into their new bunk beds set up temporarily in the living-room downstairs.

Although we functioned with the transitional setup, James and Morgan needed their own space.  They needed a room with empty shelves and floorspace, not just a makeshift area shared with furniture shoved over and instruments piled in the corners.  Their long temporary stay was in a room already full that quickly overflowed. Keepsakes and toys were without empty shelves to be put on. Clothes were without enough drawers or a closet to be put in.  And Lego was everywhere!

Luke planned and created.  I piled, shifted and finally sorted and cleared out.  And then one day, the room was finished.  The carpet was laid.  The walls were painted.  The waiting was over.

This is the beautiful end result.

A new space full of possibilities.  A room where they can carve their own story.  A room that inspires the possibilities of what decluttering and renewing a piled up area can deliver.