“It doesn’t look like this anymore…”

I was looking at the titles on another one of my blogs, and this one popped out at me. It struck me- NOTHING looks like it used to. I thought maybe I was referring to the aging process or something, since I have another birthday around the corner, but it was fall leaves.

What the hell. Guys don’t look the same when they get older either, although some cling fervently to the fact that they do. And why should they?

Getting older for me has been more of a mental process than a physical one. I know the physical stuff is happening, but it has been less troublesome to me than the emotional stuff.

Me with Baby Meg

This is me with Meg, when she was just a teeny peanut. This was the colic child, the child who later would pass out from crying, who had seizures when she had a high temperature. I used to call her my one-in-a-hundred because if there was a condition that would affect 1 in 100 people or fewer, she would exhibit traits of it.

I look at myself, and my god! I was so teeny too! I was not much older than the average of my daughters’ ages now, and I look like a teenager here. I would like to take that colicky baby from my arms and let myself take a good nap.

But what is showing in my face is not all exhaustion. It is a coming to terms. It was being a mother, which in both this family and in society in general (at least back then) meant being on-call 24 hours a day.

But, really- anyone could do it for a day… it’s the lifetime commitment that settled in on my lap in that rocking chair and blew me away. Sitting in my lap was the cement that was going to keep the marriage together through better or worse for as long as it could possibly be held together. That little eight pounds of human was a parade of puppies and kittens and mud and glue-gunned felt made into Halloween costumes and pulling holiday traditions out of midair, and although it doesn’t look like it, my real reason to grow up.

I read this morning (thanks, @RealtyMan) that “The hill isn’t in the way, it IS the way.” True, but you CHOOSE your way. Accepting the terrain has always been, for me, the hardest part.

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