Tuesday, May 30, 2017

Perfect 33

Its my birthday.


I am right where I want to be and 33 is a perfect number.

Three kids, a house, husband, job. I am living the dream.

Picture it. Its a weekend morning and the kids pile into our bed. Husband tired from an early morning. The toddler is trying to poke the baby. The cat is being annoying. I did not get enough sleep. The preschooler has already had 2 hrs of screen time and is currently still glued to a phone. And its perfect. Its right where I wanted to be when I was 17 and thought I would be a young mom, or 22 and getting married. We listened to country music - Front Porch Looking In. Husband and I fantasized about having pets and a house and kids. And now we have it and its perfect. We have arrived. This is it. This is life as I always wanted it. And it is reality.

Of course I am tired sometimes. I get frustrated. I want my 5 year old to listen. I worry. I want to sleep. I want a moment to myself or more money or longer vacation. Of course I still look to the future, wonder what comes next. Plot and plan and fantasize. That's just human nature.

But when push comes to shove, I can't think of anything more perfect, more glorious than sitting at Brighton Beach on a nice day, baby blanket spread out on a flat rock for my infant, while my toddler and her Dad fling stones haphazardly into the water and my preschooler runs off into the distance testing his strength, balance and boundaries. I can't think of anything better than the laughter of my two older kids when I pretend to warm up my vocal chords before breaking into their lullaby at bedtime, or the weight of that infant in my arms, old enough to smile but young enough to still fit cradled in one arm. Push pause. Freeze frame. Remember this moment as perfection.

I am incredibly lucky. My biggest pains are not my own. I hurt because the world is a cruel place, because our politicians do not care about the people I serve, because people hate, and most of all because friends or family are suffering. I cry because I cannot do anything to help people I love get to where I am, because biology doesn't care about hopes and heartbreak. But as sad or depressed as any of these makes me, I am crying for other people. There is nothing I can do to balance that out, so I just make sure to be thankful for what I have.

Sometimes, I wonder when my bubble will burst. Am I due for a personal crash? But most the time, I just sit back and try to soak it all up because this is temporary. Even without disaster, this sweet spot where everything is exactly how I always dreamed will change. The kids will grow up. I will be done having babies. No one will pile onto my bed too early on Sunday. I am sure other times will be good as well, but this moment is the culmination of the dreams a younger me dreamed.

33 is perfect, and I am happy to be here.

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