love – Page 6 – Frozen Spaghetti

image1 (1).jpg

I took this picture during church this morning. It was such a specific thing to see: Lucy’s soon to be 8 year old hand resting on my soon to be 35 year old palm.

I have thought throughout the day – throughout lacing up her boots – throughout sledding with her in my lap – throughout ordering her Starbucks – throughout watching her come out of the Starbucks bathroom with her snow pants draped on her arm; rocking stockings only – throughout her sweet kisses and her older sister’s sweet kisses – I have thought throughout all these things what the purpose of this meaning is.

…How to explain my heart in this picture.

As I warmed up the house – cranking the heat and thawing my toes in the shower – I recalled this recording I have from last year of a little ditty I wrote in 2014 before my grandma passed. And it really tells the truth of where my heart is….

Someday I’ll be old. Someday – I’ll be old.

Someone will come visit me and hold my hand.

They’ll tell me that I look good. They’ll talk about the weather. They’ll ask me how I’m feeling …

…and I won’t know why I’m there.

Part of me will be gone – on my other way – part of me will be there; to live another day…

Someday I’ll be old.

And so – on this Valentine’s, I suppose I simply treasure this 34 year old / 7 year old moment. Because it is different than the others and younger than the rest. And it’s invaluable to me.

This is my first post posting vocals. Kind of a step for me. Happy Valentine’s Day.

Today could easily be called a disappointment. It started right: I was effortlessly productive and smiling with the girls. But it all just melted away.

Do I blame the hot Saint Louis summer sun?

Can my ideal day be destroyed just like a bomb pop?

Where did I go wrong?

If there is a string on each part of my being that keeps my spirit lifted, where is the one that needs to be re-tied?

I feel it in my heart, something I need to learn from this so I can be better at it next time.

We were at the zoo when the shrieks of a broken-hearted 5 year old (distraught over a positioned for impulse buy yo-yo), opened the flood gates for self pity and sleep deprivation to convince myself that it was over: the picture of newborn Ellen on my fridge was a long lost memory and now I had this new creature – this mean, uncontrollable little girl who didn’t understand real love and would trade me for a yo-yo.

We went home.

I made lunch.

I let the sobbing continue while I cooked – a little bacon, shrimp, pasta, Alfredo sauce, peas – and then fed my over heated under eated children.

I watched them devour food and remembered something I said over the weekend when the 2 year old fell apart over a pony ride at an outlet mall.

I said, “When they cry this hard it isn’t because of the ride. It is for food, comfort, sleep, water”. I took Lucy out of the heat and into the cool restroom, slowly wiped her down with water, changed her into a dry pamper, showed her what happy looked like in the mirror and we were fine.

I can relate to the frustration and heart break my children had over yo-yo’s and pony rides when they were hungry, hot and tired. It is the same fist-clenching teeth grind that arises in me when life does not give me what I want and I need a shower, a good night’s sleep or a cup of hot water.

So, question: can we take cues from our meltdowns as times to self care?

Parenting is teaching me to take care of the body (all of our bodies) first for optimal upper hierarchal results…

My sanity depends on it. Lesson. Learned.

Ok. Now on to look up how to spell cicada.