This week, I have been feeling a bit like this burro. A little neglected. A little over worked. and... Totally disrespected. Really, how many people praise the donkey for its hard work and cute looks? Many complain that they are lazy, but have you ever seen how much they can actually pull? Despite their loud cries, they are actually a wonderful little animal. So from now on, when life has left me feeling like this burro, I will hold my head up high and sing....
Is it Friday, yet? Seems to me that this week is so long that it could have been two weeks already! Ever have those weeks? Everything is whipping by you, you are try to catch on, but it keeps going and going and going. There is never an end in sight. But then Wednesday morning, early, before you really get going, when you are wondering if you can make it to the midway point of this thing called the week. There is that brief moment between waking up and functioning when your mind is spinning and you are trying to figure out the best way to navigate the week. That is when it hits you. There is no way this week is going to end. I have those weeks when my husband is away on business. Guess who is not here this week? Thus, the super, duper long week. The light at the end of the tunnel? We are staring down the eyes of a lovely long weekend complete with a bank holiday on Monday. Hope you are having a better week.
Wow! That is bright. For some reason I woke up today feeling ancient. Years ago, eight years ago to be exact, a student told me that 32 was ancient. I laughed and pull that story out now and again to point out how silly youth are.
Today, I feel as old as the sun and am creaking around to prove it. In less than 40 days, I will be ancient. My ancient. 40. I am sure that once this milestone is achieved the new 40 will be 80. But for now on the dawn of my last month in the 30s, I feel ancient and am sticking to it. Perhaps having three rambunctious little ones is adding to my state right now.
I hope I feel less ancient after another cup of coffee.
It's funny how in the wee small hours of the morning (you know, the precious time from when you wake up and the minutes later when your small children wake up), for those few small moments, something divine happens. You feel refreshed, the world seems well, and if it is sunny, bonus! My brood just woke up, so my wee small hours are done, but I hope you savoured yours this morning.
Today as I logged onto Facebook to check out statuses and whatnot, I realized thanks to the handy dandy birthday reminder that today would have been my cousin's 48th birthday. She died suddenly earlier this year leaving behind her 21 year old son and not a day goes by that I think of her. We were not particularly close, and she had a horribly hard life, but there was a spark there that made you think about her and wonder what would have happened if she did not have such a hard life.
I wanted to say happy birthday on Facebook, but how could I? Her page is still up and people are posting there, but it just doesn't seem right somehow. So instead, I decided to say a little prayer and to post this here.
You never do know what life will deal you, so tell your loved ones that you love them and don't be cross over stupid things.
Once upon a time, there was a child who while laying in the grass saw a white balloon drift over her head. It was a warm day, and the grass was cool. The child tried to imagine her life 30 years in the future. She tried and she tried, but could not. Thirty years seemed like an eternity to a ten year old. Her life was unimaginable outside of the there and then. Seems fitting on this Mother's Day that the image of myself resting in the fresh, Spring grass on a gentle slope with fluffy clouds and a lone balloon floating by resurfaced from my deep memory.
I had totally forgotten about it. Until just a few moments ago when I realized that this life is sometimes not what I would have ever imagined. The constant fights of three children are never far from my ears. Even the priest at Mass today mentioned the way he and his siblings fought back in the days before he was priestly.
So, I guess that sibling rivalry is as old as dirt and that I just have to accept it. The only child in me wants to stamp her foot and resist.
I hope you have a great Mother's Day -free of all the stressful bits.
This morning I woke up ala Groundhog Day thinking it was Monday. I ran through the whole list in my head of all the things and all the places I had to be. It was exhausting. I should know, in reality, I collapsed into bed last night weary from the day and glad that it was done for the week. Mondays in our household are manic.
As a child, I did what all the other children did from our neighborhood did: went to a school in our town, did activities in our town, and played, yes, played with the other neighborhood children. All ten of us played together. It was delightful for our parents. They openned the door and a bus took us to school. They opened a door and a bus took us home. They opened a door and the piano teacher arrived. They opened a door and bid us good day in the morning. They opened a door at dusk and called our named. The door. That is what I remember most from my childhood. The open invitation of the door to new adventures and the bike to an innocent freedom.
We were the last innocent generation. We were older when Atari introduced it's first video games. We were intrigued with our state of the art cable television channel changer with its long cord and slide changer. We listened to the radio and 8 Tracks. We loved our vynyl and were not too sure about the new fangled cassette tapes. We knew of computers, but none of us had one. We either wrote it by hand or typed it out. We had to learn how to, gasp, spell, because there was no spell check back then. Sometimes, I wish my children lived when I did. They can't even phathom a day with out a cell phone...I think they would pass out if they had to listen to AM radio...
