Cutting vegetables, gripping the steering wheel, or turning the pages of a book, I have recently been more frequently startled at the realization that I have my mother's hands..the hands that belong to this wise woman who was mature enough to rise before the crow of the rooster and do a day's worth of work and study before she always so cheerfully woke her 8 children (she had 8 of her 10 children when she was my age). I haven't earned these hands. I am still one of the children that needs to be shaken awake. Every year I wonder if this is the year that I am going to become an adult. There is a significance to turning 37. I have now tipped the scales. I have officially been an independent adult longer than I was a dependent child. Why does this produce in me such a lurching tumult of nausea?
I rarely recognize the person I see in the mirror. The wrinkles appearing along my neck, eyes, and arms are a painful reminder that :
1. I am closer to death
2. I am losing value as a woman in society
3. I need to act my age
When I allow myself to buy into the ubiquitous images of extreme youth peddling the powerful message that I should be falling over myself to fight these lines, I either become apoplectic at my vanity or despondently hopeless. It doesn't help that the world refuses to grow up and continues to embrace primitive atrocities such as the Miss USA and Miss Universe pageants (in my mature opinion).
So as I am trying to learn to put a dagger in these self-drenched thoughts with diminishing lingering guilt and increased good humor, I will laugh at my ridiculousness, submit with reverence, and move on with my precious life
Corey chose this cake well. Fudge brownie foundation followed by layers of dark, milk, and white chocolate mousse. I hope I never get mature enough to not over-indulge in such goodness.
My sweet neighbor brought these gifts over in the morning. My grandparents had the same hummingbird feeder. If I can age as gracefully as they did, I will refrain from complaint.
Kathryn brought me flowers and Joal and Elizabeth (sis and bro in law) drove all the way from Pullman to watch the kids so that Corey and I could go on a bike ride together.
Emmy woke before I did (she always does), crafted this adorable card, slipped into my room unnoticed, and placed it on my nightstand. I have a feeling that Emmy will earn her aging hands.
Corey made sure that a few musical geniuses made appearances at my party (in CD form, of course) Andrew Bird (above), Neko Case, and Matthew Ward recently came out with albums that I highly recommend.
Ansel is pointing out the fine details of his artistic gift. He is also thrilled that I received a pack of Pokemon cards that he is sure I will share with him. A fine example of how I am 37 going on
Savanna also took a few moments to create my own personal forest.
Hallelujah! I have been achingly pining for a kayak for the past 4 years. I love her already. Anything to keep me from my responsibilities.
We decided to make an afternoon of it. Corey took the kids biking while I paddled around the nearest lake (exactly 10 miles from our driveway)
Ahhh. I could die right now a happy woman