I can't tell you how many times I want to use the title "changes"
Nora is sitting next to me watching a kids show while I attempt to blog while she's awake. She's nineteen months old and I've yet to figure out how to carve out much personal time while she's conscience. And, now that she's down to one nap, I'm limited on my chore time, let alone "me" time.
Seriously, though, she's so cute, with her head on my shoulder and fingers in her mouth because she's still cutting her two year molars. My beautiful girl has permanent bedhead and she refuses to wear a clip in her hair. It's my favorite thing, the way her curls flip and lick the air, creating this halo of space around her giant toddler head. I can stare at her hair for hours. Too bad she's rarely still enough to indulge in that obsession. I usually just see the back of her head from a distance as she runs across the room toward the next thing to break, destroy, discover.
I was talking with a friend of mine a few months ago about how I felt about turning thirty-five. I said that I felt like I'd lived my whole life to be thirty-five and it's still true. I'm not sure what combination of things came together so that I could be this person, but I'm thrilled.
Yes, the dark days come and they're just as dark as before, but my good days are better. I'm stronger, happier, more resilient, more confident and more creative than any time in the last five years.
Currently I'm sore all over. I can barely lift my arms. It's an amazing feeling. Tuesday night Charlotte and I went indoor rock climbing for the first time. I was nervous because it's been ages since I'd tried something new. Heading into the gym I had to fight the urge to run. Everyone was fit and relaxed, they had their active wear on and their shoes weren't rented, and I was stumbling in wearing an old pair of my mom's capris sweat pants and a ribbed tank that I'd bought while pregnant, so it was huge. I was embarrassed, but it was too late.
Our instructor seemed unenthusiastic about teaching us when we first walked in. I guess because we looked like what we were - nervous middle-aged women in un-serious clothes. But he loosened up once we got started.
Going up the wall the first time was amazing. I'd never felt so comfortable doing a physical activity (that wasn't sex) in my whole life - and I was ballet dancer for eighteen years.
I've always been nervous about heights, but it seems irrelevant when I was leaping from hold to hold. Leaping. It was beautiful.
It was as if I'd found my calling, but I'm old and out of shape. Is that irony or Alanis' Irony? Either which way, I'm going back. We're going to go until we can't afford it, so, knowing our financial situation, another three weeks? Then I'll go every time I have cash.
Suddenly my workouts seems less annoying because I'll be working on my strength so that I can do better the next I try the walls.
I just wish that there was a rock climbing gym closer to my house. It would be less of an event and more of a thing that I could do.
Ah, so Nora has given up being good. She's intentionally climbing and pulling things down, looking over her shoulder to see if I'm watching. She's so blatant about acting out for attention.
Seriously, though, she's so cute, with her head on my shoulder and fingers in her mouth because she's still cutting her two year molars. My beautiful girl has permanent bedhead and she refuses to wear a clip in her hair. It's my favorite thing, the way her curls flip and lick the air, creating this halo of space around her giant toddler head. I can stare at her hair for hours. Too bad she's rarely still enough to indulge in that obsession. I usually just see the back of her head from a distance as she runs across the room toward the next thing to break, destroy, discover.
I was talking with a friend of mine a few months ago about how I felt about turning thirty-five. I said that I felt like I'd lived my whole life to be thirty-five and it's still true. I'm not sure what combination of things came together so that I could be this person, but I'm thrilled.
Yes, the dark days come and they're just as dark as before, but my good days are better. I'm stronger, happier, more resilient, more confident and more creative than any time in the last five years.
Currently I'm sore all over. I can barely lift my arms. It's an amazing feeling. Tuesday night Charlotte and I went indoor rock climbing for the first time. I was nervous because it's been ages since I'd tried something new. Heading into the gym I had to fight the urge to run. Everyone was fit and relaxed, they had their active wear on and their shoes weren't rented, and I was stumbling in wearing an old pair of my mom's capris sweat pants and a ribbed tank that I'd bought while pregnant, so it was huge. I was embarrassed, but it was too late.
Our instructor seemed unenthusiastic about teaching us when we first walked in. I guess because we looked like what we were - nervous middle-aged women in un-serious clothes. But he loosened up once we got started.
Going up the wall the first time was amazing. I'd never felt so comfortable doing a physical activity (that wasn't sex) in my whole life - and I was ballet dancer for eighteen years.
I've always been nervous about heights, but it seems irrelevant when I was leaping from hold to hold. Leaping. It was beautiful.
It was as if I'd found my calling, but I'm old and out of shape. Is that irony or Alanis' Irony? Either which way, I'm going back. We're going to go until we can't afford it, so, knowing our financial situation, another three weeks? Then I'll go every time I have cash.
Suddenly my workouts seems less annoying because I'll be working on my strength so that I can do better the next I try the walls.
I just wish that there was a rock climbing gym closer to my house. It would be less of an event and more of a thing that I could do.
Ah, so Nora has given up being good. She's intentionally climbing and pulling things down, looking over her shoulder to see if I'm watching. She's so blatant about acting out for attention.
Comments