Category: Bigger Picture Blogs

Three years ago I was part of a fantastic group of writers. We shared our thoughts on life over at Bigger Picture Blogs. The Blog is long gone, but the premise behind it still remains. One our collaborative writing projects was based on a meme called Where I’m From. 

So, for those of you who are new-ish to my blog, here’s a glimpse of me.

 

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I am from river cities and small towns with corn fields as far as the eye can see.

 

From Chewy Chips Ahoy cookies with a tall glass of cold milk and Happy Joe’s taco pizza with Whitey’s ice cream for dessert. From plastic horses that galloped like wind and from Barbies with pink sports cars and stacks of Golden books.

 

From duplexes, apartments, fixer uppers and zero lots with old friends for neighbors.

 

I am from the sweet smell of lilacs in the springtime and the smiling faces of pansies blooming in the summer sun. From lilly pads in garden ponds brimming with shimmering goldfish.

 

From strong stubborn Germans and blond haired, blue eyed Swedes. From a single dad and a remarried mother. From step families knitted together by love and circumstance.

 

I am from Fate and faith and the belief in things bigger than myself.

 

I’m from mega shopping trips with my grandmother and learning everything I know about gardening from her. From singing to the Grease soundtrack into my hairbrush and creating dance routines to TV commercials.

 

I’m from salisbury steak TV dinners with my dad while watching The A-Team and Magnum PI, and from daddy daughter nights at girl scouts.

 

From knee boarding on the Mississippi behind my stepdad’s fishing boat and baiting hooks to fish for blue gill.

 

From being called an over emotional spaz, geek and overall nerd. From finding myself in my twenties and rising above all labels. From being unique and an individual. I’m from overcoming negative thoughts and worries. From surviving abuse and eating disorders and finally being comfortable in my own skin.

 

I am from dreams and passions yet to be discovered. From traveling the journey of life and anticipating the excitement it will bring.

They say “age is just a number.” I believe this statement to be true. However, there are moments like when my knees creak as I walk up the stairs, or when I fall asleep with mouth agape while watching TV. When my laugh lines seem more pronounced and the oldies station is playing songs from the 80’s.

 

 

Those are the moments I feel old.

 

Ancient.

 

Obsolete.

 

I turned 41 today. I’m on the other side of the hill.

 

Each birthday I take moment, breathe deeply and assess my place in the universe. I remember thinking at the tender age of 18 that 40 seemed crazy old. According to my 18 year-old self I’d be retired by now with grandkids and a beach house. If only … although not the grandkids those can wait a bit.

 

Forty – one might not be old, but I have seen so many changes in the world – the invention of the Internet, the devastation of 911, TMZ used as a credible news outlet, gay marriage and the legalization of pot.

 

As the world around me grows and expands, so do I.

 

I grow older, and hopefully wiser.

 

Age really is just a number, the measure of a person’s life isn’t just in how many years they have lived and breathed on this earth.

 

 

It’s measured in …

 

Forty-one years of laughter, and the chiseled lines to prove that yes life can be downright hilarious. So hilarious you might even pee your pants, which is what happens when you’re old.

 

Creaky knees, because they have led me across many a finish line.

 

The times I’ve fallen asleep in my chair each night because it means I’ve lived a full life that day.

 

Those days when a radio station plays my favorite song from 80’s because who doesn’t love a dance party in the kitchen.

 

All week my husband has asked what I wanted for my birthday. I replied with a smile and shoulder shrug, because after 41 years I have everything I need right here.

 

 

It was a glorious Saturday afternoon. I had ditched my date with the laundry monster in favor of hanging out with our two cutie pie monsters.

 

We made our way downtown with the intention of heading to the Farmer’s Market. However, mama can’t do downtown without an iced coffee in her hand. A quick coffee stop turned into a full-on second breakfast.

 

You know because oatmeal just isn’t enough.

 

In 2.5 seconds Big E and I had gobbled up our goodies and were left waiting impatiently for Little Red to methodically dismantle his gargantuan cinnamon roll bite by bite. It was painful to watch…I think a snail would moved faster.

 

By the time Little Red had finished, the Farmer’s Market was over..sigh. With reluctant feet I made my way to the playground. I’m cool with the playground it’s fun for the kids, but sometimes I’m just not into it.

 

Yes, I am that mom that will sit on the bench, cell phone in hand, catching up on blogs, updating my Facebook status, and Instagraming photos. All while the boys play “battle”, “superheroes” or some other chasing game.

 

While I sat on my perch watching the boys, making sure no one decided to jump off the highest ladder, I took a deep breath.

 

“Hey mom,” Big E yelled. “Play battle with us. You can be the bad guy.”

 

Seriously, why am I ALWAYS the “bad guy”?

 

Perhaps this is some kind of metaphor.

 

To be honest I was enjoying my perch, and the room to breath.

 

And just when I was about to make-up some lame excuse Little Red pops over and says “peas mama.”

 

Ugh, now they were ganging up on me.

 

“Ok,” I said reluctantly. I slipped my cell phone into my pocket and followed them to the playground.

 

They started running, I started chasing.

 

 

They started laughing. I started laughing.

 

Just like that, I was hooked into their game.

 

There I was the ONLY adult climbing the playground equipment, and pretending to be the “bad guy.”

 

“Capture me mama,” yelled Big E.

 

I ran after him and tackle hugged him tightly then walked him back to my dungeon. His giggling echoed in the caverns of the playground. I was laughing along, tickling him.

 

“I’ll rescue you,” yelled Little Red. Distracted by my “prisoner” I wasn’t prepared for the screaming fury known as Little Red. He charges at my legs knocking me off kilter sending me to ground right on top of him.

 

Laughter quickly turned to tears, and embarrassment {on my part}. The playground grew silent and I could feel every eye on me, as I rolled off my four year old.

 

“There’s nothing to see here folks,” I thought in my head. “Just a mom who crushed her kiddo. No biggie. Just keep on playing.”

 

I cradled Little Red in my arms, wiping his tears and kissing his boo boos. “Mama you smooshed me,” he declared accusingly.

 

I nodded my head, “Yes, I’m so sorry buddy. Are you ok?”

 

Through snuffles he shook his head yes.

 

In less time than it took my 40-year old body to get up off the ground. Little Red and Big E were off running again like nothing had even happened.

 

Kids are resilient, it’s one of the qualities I envy about them. The ability to fall and just wipe their tears and keep on keeping on.

 

Conflicts and collisions have a tendency to stick with you longer when you are older. It becomes harder and harder to bounce back after you’ve been smooshed by the world.

 

Here’s the deal though, even though the world may smoosh us once in a while we still need to get off the bench and just keep on laughing.