SLIDER

Saturday, April 22, 2017

Thoughts at 35



Alex was laying in bed with Francie last night, after reading her a new book - What Do You Do With An Idea, from Adam - while I was finishing up stretching after 30 minutes on the elliptical, washing my hands, and getting ready for my turn to put our Bean to bed. From my room, I could hear them whispering about something, and smiled to myself. When I walked into Francie's bedroom to see them cuddling together in her Frozen sheets she said to me, "We're not talking about anything." I laughed that laugh that reminds me of my mom - one of the very few ways, sadly, she remains a part of my adult life - the chuckle that somehow transports me through generations and roles, that of mother daughter, 1980s, 2017. The reflexive gigle when my heart is just so tickled by the mind of my growing girl.

I then tell Alex about yesterday morning, that when I was headed downstairs after getting ready for work, Francie rushed ahead of me and closed my office door.

"You know I have to go in there this morning, right? All my stuff is in there, like my work stuff and my purse."

"Oh, okay," she says, opening the office door and then leading me in the room. "Just don't look inside this door," she says, gesturing to one of the three plastic drawers that Alex has been relegated to in 'my' office.

I giggle, tickled by her adorably misguided efforts to "surprise" me on my birthday today.

Last night, as I'm tucking her in I tell her, "I adore how you want to make me feel special on my birthday. But no present you give me or even card you make for me will be as nice as just knowing and seeing how hard you've tried."

After reading her a Fancy Nancy book, and then answering her myriad random questions - about the bedtime CD playing, whether it's the African Dreamland CD or the regular Dreamland CD, what language they speak in Africa, how they learn to speak that language in Africa, about the weather forecast, why I'm not having friends over for a party, why Daddy probably won't have friends over for his birthday, how mermaids swim and breathe under water - I squeeze her tight and ask her to "wake me up like this in the morning" - I kiss her cheek softly.

"Daddy said not to wake you up in the morning."

"Oh, that's sweet. But that's okay, you can wake me up."

"Daddy said to let you sleep in because it's your birthday. And he can take me to school."

"Ok, well I'll check in with Daddy about that, but I do know for sure that I want to see you both in the morning, so wake me up with a sweet birthday kiss, even if he does take you to school."

***
This morning my alarm went off at 6:40 a.m., even though I planned ahead of time to snooze several times and only get out of bed when I actually felt like it. But also, I didn't want my free "Me Day" to pass right on by. Francie does indeed wake me with sweet kisses and she and Alex softly sing me "Happy Birthday." And then she sings it to me on two more separate occasions. I'm just so smitten with her excitement for my birthday, her energy is contagious. I think I'm smiling in my sleep.

"Bye babe, hope you have a really nice day," Alex says kissing me, his face again smooth-ish; he finally shaved off the beard-turned-Chester-stache.

"I love you guys," I tell them from my pillow, my eyes still heavy with sleep. They finish up brushing their teeth and are ready to leave for daycare/work.

"Ooh, you're breath is stanky," Alex tells me, sweetly insulting. "You smell like an old lady," he teases.

I lay in bed, half sleeping, half daydreaming about how to spend my "Me Day." I fantasize about a delicious hot mocha appearing on my doorstep, and think about how nice it might be to drink coffee and do a Monday or Tuesday New York Times crossword puzzle. About going for a "hike" in Forest Park. I think about whether I should hit up a movie this afternoon, or Powell's, or a coffeeshop with the freedom to read or write whatever I damn well feel like. Maybe I should go spend the $150 I have to Nordstrom. Just this week I started wondering if I might want another tattoo. Triangles seem particularly significant lately, but I'm no fan of the "branded" type markings I already have.

***
When I finally peel myself out of bed, at 7:30 or so, I spot a sweet note taped to the mirror. "You are beautiful," it tells me and I notice that I might still be smiling from when my Bean woke me. I pad downstairs and there is another note at my place at the table. "Happy birthday, cupcake," says the front, a picture of an elephant in a party hat holding a cupcake with its trunk. "I am SO glad you were born. Today is a day to celebrate yourself. You ARE worth it. I hope your birthday is filled with peace and self-love. I love you." My heart feels full, and my chest expansive, just the way they describe it in books. I don't feel this way often, but when I do, I am so aware of and astounded by the physiological sensations that represent these nearly-overwhelming surges of emotion.

I think about how I'm not the picture of the 35 year old that I briefly fantasized about being this winter (but obviously did nothing about). I didn't put myself on a restrictive diet and prioritize my fitness. No one on Instagram is going to compliment my "new" body or killer triceps. I didn't stop picking my face to ring in my new year with clear skin. I still prefer comfortable clothes over flattering or fashionable ones (thank god for 'athleisure').

I am fully aware that I am not always the easiest person to love. That even when loving me one way works one time, there's no guarantee it'll work again another time. That more often than not my own self-loathing trumps another's caring and affection. That I am an expert wall-builder and insist 97% of the time that we all are, in fact, islands. But today, I am SO fucking grateful to have two people in my life that despite the poor odds of their ability to make me feel special and loved, they keep trying and trying and trying again. And then, when it works, like this morning, I feel high as a kite, floating on their nearly unconditional love and devotion.

***
And then my oldest friend surprised me at home - still in my PJ's - with a vase of purple tulips and thoughtful card, and my heart, yet again, feels so full.

***


I walk 7 miles in Forest Park, listening to music on my iPhone, and take notice of the little gifts from Mother Nature - the tiny snail with its shell unblemished. The red and black striped caterpillar that I recall 'catching' as a kid. The small waterfalls on the hillside. A cloudy, but rainless, sky. The fresh smell of Spring. The sing-song of faraway birds.

***
I take myself to lunch at Kenny and Zukes - a toasted sesame bagel with plain cream cheese, cucumber, and tomato - and get it to-go, as there is just enough time to arrive a tad early for an afternoon movie at Fox Tower. I enjoy the British film, only one other person in the audience, and stroll around Nordstrom, looking for inspiration on how to spend a gift certificate.

***




Dinner out with Alex, Francie, and my dad at Oak and Olive in Hillsdale, capping off too much garlic and the to-be-expected stomachache with dessert. I open sweet cards from them, and the REI presents I got last weekend on my dad's dividend. The present that Alex and Francie ordered online for me us yet to arrive by mail. At home, my dad offers us all the macaroons he and Francie baked, encourages me to get a beverage of my choice and to curl up on the couch. I'm kinda tired, got my fill of family time, and am ready to watch that Life in Pieces show I discovered on Netflix that makes me occasionally laugh out loud. Instead, Alex pulls up on his phone a video from Dropbox and Airplays it to the television - I am sweetly surprised by my dad's generous creation of a "35th birthday shout-out video." I see friends and family from a breadth of my life experiences - my parents' friends, a preschool girlfriend, West Linn, UPS, Telluride, Tahoe, my husband, dad, brother, BFFs, daughter. People saying, simply, "Happy Birthday," and those sharing memories of us together. I'm surprised that I don't feel overly emotional, and aware that a large part of me would much rather be alone watching this montage of my 35 years - but the grown-up part of me is damned grateful I have three people who love me dearly to watch this with. And I'm tickled that my curmudgeonly father spent many hours and frustrations putting this all together for me.

***



The best gift, I admit, is letting my daughter eat too much sugar and stay up too late, and then fall asleep under a plush blanket next to me on the couch. No music. No tv. No iphone. Just my best girl, the only time she's still, and the soft sound of her breathing, snuggled up against me. I linger here, already feeling nostalgic about and longing for this moment.


No comments:

Post a Comment

Hover to Pin

 
Designed with ♥ by Nudge Media Design