My Real Life

Today I turn 47, and 47 sounds very, very old to me.

But it doesn’t feel old.

It feels kinda awesome.

George Burns once said “You can’t help getting older, but you don’t have to get old.”

I love it.

When I was 45, I made a list of things that I “was” at 45. Today, I think I’ll make a new list.

No, not much has changed in two years, so much of this is repeated or just said differently.

But I think it’s important to reflect on who and what you are every now and then.

And (un)fortunately for you, you logged in to read this post, so you get a front seat to my reflection.

At 47, I am getting ready to set one of my babies free into the world and I’m feeling good about it. I’m going to miss her like crazy and am struggling with how much I will miss her, but I’m confident that she’s ready and I’m excited about the possibilities ahead of her.

At 47, I’m done with playing games and getting along to get along.

At 47, I am unapologetic about who I am and what I want out of life.

At 47, I dress for myself and not to impress.

At 47, I say what I mean and expect other to do the same. If you feel it, say it.

At 47, I understand and accept that I am not everyone’s cup of tea and I don’t worry about those who don’t enjoy my particular flavor.

At 47, I know who my friends are and I make sure that they know how important they are to me.

At 47, I only regret the things I was never brave enough to do.

At 47, I love super heroes, sci-fi, Star Wars, and pretty much any geeky thing you can imagine, loudly and proudly.

At 47, I want to read more. I’ve pushed it aside for other things long enough. It’s time to smell the pages again and dive back in.

At 47, I want to write more. I want to feel the weight of that pen in my hand and let my thoughts run through it as they used to before life became full of “shoulds” and “oughts” which quickly overshadowed anything that wasn’t “necessary.”

At 47, I want to have the hard conversations, say the difficult things, and hear the opposite point of view, because I’ve discovered life is boring if I surround myself with people who agree with everything I say. I’d rather say “I never heard that, tell me more” and grow than say “I already know everything I want to know about this,” and stagnate.

At 47, I realize that what I need is very little, so I’m not looking to accumulate anything more.

At 47, I believe that we are the sum of the choices we have made.

At 47, I’m aware that I’m not going to live forever and I’m going to grab my happiness now.

At 47, I believe in kindness. It is my goal, my mantra, and my purpose. To spread it, to practice it, to be it.

That’s my 47, and if you’re also 47, it may be completely different from yours.

But guess what?

That’s okay.

Because my words and music are my own and that’s what makes them just right.

And so we come to the last, which was really the very first, of the birthdays we celebrate in February.

Today, my Monkey Girl turns 12.

I really don’t know how this is possible.

How the sweet little girl with the lisp who sucked her thumb and picked her nose during pre-school concerts turned into the beautiful, confident, amazing girl I see before me.

There is no one quite like my Monkey Girl.

She is sweet.  She is kind.  She is brilliant.  She is funny.  She is creative.  She is sensitive.  She is strong.

She is my role model.

I love her beyond words and we share a connection that is indescribable.

My girl.

My heart.

Happy 12th Birthday to my precious Monkey Girl.  I am so very proud of who you have been, who you have become and who I know you will be.

I didn’t actually think I was pregnant when I took that test in June 2010.

I didn’t feel well and hadn’t for a few days and so I was just ruling it out.

I honestly didn’t think I was pregnant.

A few months earlier, my doctor had come around her desk, sat on the edge and told me in a sad voice that I would never be able to have any more children due to some medical issues I was having.

We certainly weren’t planning on having any more kids, as Baby Monkey was a surprise, himself, and three seemed to be all we could handle.

I was sad, though, because that’s a decision that I wanted us to make.

I don’t like having decisions made for me.

However, the three babies we had were amazing babies, and so we were fine with it.

Except, I always had that nagging feeling that we weren’t quite complete, but I accepted what was.

Then, I took that test.

I walked it into the office where Real Man was on the computer and showed him.

He stared at me, I stared at him.

I walked back out of the room and we didn’t talk about it again for two days.

Four kids.

Four kids.

I’m a working mother, and I was doing okay balancing work and home with three kids, but four sounded impossible.

The three we had were fantastic.  Were we tempting fate with a fourth?

I was going to be 40 in a year.

Four kids.

I was scared and nervous, but I was happy and over those two days the happy outgrew the nervousness, and Real Man and I were over the moon.

The pregnancy was scary.

I tested borderline positive for Down Syndrome, and we decided we didn’t care.  This was our baby.

Late in my pregnancy, I was diagnosed with placenta accretia and there were conversations that included words like “make plans,” “save the child,” “get your will in order.”

Even while we were waiting for me to be wheeled into the ER, the doctor and the anesthesiologist were arguing over the best way to proceed and they explained to Real Man what would happen based on what they would find when they went in, and they said things like, “…at that time, we will escort you from the room and will make every effort we can to save your wife.”

But, then it was over and he was here and He. Is. Amazing.

And I’d do every single second of it all over again.

He is a character.

He is a ham.

He is a love.

He is, and always will be, my baby.

Happy Birthday, Tiny!  The past two years with you have been absolutely unbelievable.  The world is definitely a better place with you in it.

9 Years.

I had a little girl, and then, 9 years ago, I had a little boy.

Right from minute one, he has been a serious, serious guy.

But a bigger lovey has never been born.

He is a complex guy, my Monkey in the Middle.

He’s a worrier, a stresser, a snuggler, a thinker, a sporter, a laugher, a goofball, and a sweetheart.

Sometimes being all of those things is too much for him to handle, and so we just love him through the tough times and celebrate with him in the happy times.

He’s got the golden touch, and he excels at everything he tries.

I’ve come to believe that there really is nothing that he can’t do.

I can’t wait to find out what he decides to do in his life.

He has a smile that goes from ear to ear and a double dimple that will break girls hearts.

I love this boy.

I love this boy so much, it makes my heart ache.

So, I wish the Happiest of Birthdays to my Monkey in the Middle.

9 is going to be a great year!