The Stream

By the time it came to the edge of the Forest the stream had grown up, so that it was almost a river, and, being grown-up, it did not run and jump and sparkle along as it used to do when it was younger, but moved more slowly. For it knew now where it was going, and said to itself, "There is no hurry. We shall get there some day."

From Chaper VI "In Which Pooh Invents a New Game and Eeyore Joins In," The House at Pooh Corner by A. A. Milne.

What if.....

When you're forty, you don't want your boobs doing weird things, and two months after you lose a dear one to breast cancer is not the best time to find a mass in your breast, even one that's almost certain to be a benign condition. Because even when your doctor says that it seems to be fibrocystic and that most breast lumps are not cancer, and even if you already knew that before you walked into her office, here's what happens over the week you're waiting for that mammogram: "What if?" starts hovering like a pesky mosquito. "What if?" is a sly sneaky creature. It likes the "almost" in "almost certain." Preys on the "1-2 percent chance." You can swat it away but pretty soon it's back, buzzing and whining in your ear: What if it's me this time? What if I do have a serious illness? How will I manage? What would happen to my children if, God forbid, I died? Not that I'm going to, you say to yourself, but what if? See that's the part that gets me...my babies. Who would raise my precious babies? I can spin down that spiral real fast. Not a good idea to go there.

Actually, "What if?" is not a bad game to play. It jolts us out of our comfort zone and reminds us that we can't predict all of the turns in the path. But play "what if?" with your head. Be reasonable. What if I did die tomorrow or next week or next year? What if loving husband becomes seriously disabled and unable to work? Do we have a plan in place? Playing "what if" helps you to remember to be patient with your precious treasures, to kiss your babies twice instead of once and to watch them sleep.

I'm really not a drama queen, except for my too-vivid imagination late at night. I didn't have a brush with death, or even illness. I had a brush with discomfort and a little anxiety, that's all. But it made me think. Finding a breast lump is frightening because even if we are ninety-five percent certain that there's nothing to worry about we also know what is at stake. By the time you're forty(ish), it's likely that you know of someone who has been lost to breast cancer; you may have lost a friend, a relative, a neighbor. It's always in our faces: pink ribbons on bumper stickers, articles in magazines, posters in the doctor's office, specials on the nightly news. And thank goodness for that. Thank goodness for breast cancer awareness and education. Thank goodness we know to do monthly self exams. We know that if we feel a lump we should call the doctor to schedule a visit. We know we should be getting our mammograms. If the price of awareness is a little anxiety, it's worry well-spent.

My mammogram was fine, by the way. Now I can check it off the list for the year.

Life is good.

One last word: Ladies, schedule your mammograms. Don't put it off because it's uncomfortable, inconvenient, frightening, not at the top of the priority list.

Girls weekend

We've known one another nearly thirty years. I love these friends, these remarkable women. We've known one another for so long that our girls weekends are like the continuation of an ongoing conversation, the threads just picked up where we left off last. I always learn something from my lovely girlfriends. I've learned about faith and strength in adversity. I am not the only forty-year-old woman who enjoys a good fart joke. Even with gray hair and wrinkles we are still strong and beautiful. Chocolate really can take care of just about anything, and a new pair of shoes and a good laugh take care of the rest. What wonderful qualities my dear friends share: strength, compassion, love, faith, loyalty. If you eat all day long you won't burst, but you'll make yourself and your friends miserable for the next few hours, hence the fart jokes-- it's hard to hide much from friends when you share a room. When you have good friends you never have to grieve or rejoice alone. An afternoon nap and quietly reading in the same room is lovely.

The bed and breakfast was heavenly. There were chocolate chip cookies in a jar and truffles on the pillows. Wine and tea and cocoa at the top of the stairs. Scrumptious breakfasts and good hot coffee served on a spotless table, and quiet conversation with grownups. A library with a window seat. I decided I wanted to live there forever. Loving husband could bring the kids by to visit and I'd drop by home to walk the dog and do my laundry.

I came home feeling refreshed and relaxed. I looked around the breakfast table and decided that if I had to choose one or the other forever and ever, I'd choose the mess and hubbub, the dog snuffing our toes, the laughter and the spills and the sticky fingers and the littlest one climbing into my lap. It was nice to get a break, but if I missed them this much after two days, how much more would I miss them after a week or a month?

Life is good. Dear friends, I hold you in my heart. I can't wait until our next weekend.

Wherever you may roam

So, good friends, wherever you may roam,

You are welcome in my heart and home.

My good friends, the gals I went away with in October, for a weekend of tea and fun will be turning forty right along with me. For a fortieth birthday surprise, we all received birthday necklaces with our birthstones. The necklaces are lovely, the thought even lovelier. The more time passes, the more I realize just how precious your friendships are. Dear friends, I carry you in my heart.

It's that time of year again. My dear friends, I look forward to spending time with you, the women I am honored to call friends.

Tuesday Ten: Who'd-a Thunk It?

Ten Things I Never Thought I'd Be...at Forty

1. Tattooed. When I was young, I thought tattoos were for people who smoked and rode motorcycles and didn't wash. I don't know where I got that idea. I certainly didn't know anyone with a tattoo, that I knew of anyway. Now I've got two tattoos of my own. I don't smoke, I've been on a motorcycle twice, and I promise I wash.

2. Forty. Well logically, of course, I knew in my head that someday I'd turn forty years old. Duh. But do we really believe it in our hearts before we get there? Suddenly thirty-nine rolled around and I panicked: "Oh my gosh, I'm really going to be forty! I still feel twenty-five!" When I was in my twenties, I thought that once I reached my forties my life was pretty much over. I had my whole life mapped out, but somehow the road disappeared into the mists somewhere around my thirty-ninth birthday. (My road map post here, in which I try to answer the question, "Are you where you wanted by be at forty?")

3. A completely unreasonable grouch. File this in the "I'm never going to say that to my kids" category. I was going to be the fun, nice mom. Sometimes I'm fun and nice, but sheesh, how many times do I have to tell these kids to close the freakin' door and stop picking their noses and for cryin' out loud pickupyoursocks?

4. A stepmom. Parenting someone else's child was not on my road map. I don't see my lovely lady as "someone else's child" really. She's mine right along with the rest. But unlike my boys, she's not all mine, so I have to share. It's challenging and rewarding and frustrating. Parenting a teenage stepchild is full of landmines, from "My mom says...." to "Why are you always picking on me?" I remember when I was a kid my mother was simultaneously my best friend and the most annoying and unreasonable person in the entire universe. (Sorry, Mom.) With my lovely stepchild there's a split: Her mother is her best friend, and I am the most annoying and unreasonable person in the universe. My wonderful stepdaughter is a strong and sweet and loving young lady, so I expect we'll make it through these years relatively unscathed. Eventually. But I may just bite my tongue clean in two before we get there.

5. Impatient, cross, hasty, impulsive, sentimental, lazy, shy, and not very serious or ambitious. Like I said before. Somehow I thought that all of this stuff would disappear. With age comes wisdom, right? I thought I'd have all the answers by now. Well, rats, I'm still not perfect, go figure. But now I like myself anyway. I've come to terms with being human and all of the joys and challenges and flaws that come along with human-ness. I find that I am more tolerant and patient with all of the perfectly flawed messy imperfect humans around me. So maybe that wisdom is coming along after all.

6. Wrinkly, saggy, stretch-marked, droopy. Another "Well, duh." No one makes it to seventy or eighty or ninety with smooth glowing skin and their perky parts still in the right place. Not naturally anyway. And it's not like you wake up on your seventy-third birthday to hear snap-crackle-pop, and all of your parts suddenly turn to jello. It's been happening all along, but it's kind of like turning forty-- you never really think it's going to happen until you look in the mirror and see the crow's feet (in spite of the daily moisturizing), and the girls start sagging (in spite of the appropriate supports), and your belly looks like a road map (in spite of the vitamin E oil rubbed on the belly during each pregnancy).

7. A sushi-eater. Raw fish? Bleah, no thanks! Then I actually tried sushi. Blame loving husband for this one, he took me out for sushi on our second date and being the good sport that I am, I ate raw fish. Ok, I lied, I wasn't being a good sport. I just didn't want to look like a stupid bumpkin on a date so I ate it. Yum-my!

8. Mom to a child with a disability. When I dreamed of having a daughter, I envisioned ballet classes and tea parties, not autism. PTA not IEP. This child has given me back every pre-child "My kid will never do that" in spades. What a lesson in humility, grace, and acceptance. Would I trade? Not a chance. I've been given exactly what I need.

9. Making fart jokes. I mean, come on. When am I going to grow up?

10. Content. Full with the richness of life. Who knew we could be happy even though life isn't perfect? Who knew that little things, this quiet life, could offer so much depth? I thought contentment was settling, that settling was boring and stuffy, that domesticity was inner death. I was wrong. Life is good.

To add a link to your Tuesday Ten: Ten Things I Thought I'd Never...., or to read more Tuesday Ten, click on Mister Linky:

Road map

I had a long chat with a good friend last night. It's been a while since we talked last, so the conversation took lots of different paths. We know one another well enough that when I said something about turning 40 she asked me something along the lines of, "So, are you where you wanted to be at 40?"

Hmmm. I've been thinking about that ever since. Am I where I wanted to be at 40?

Hell no.

When I was young and starting my independent building-a-life journey, I thought I'd meet the right guy, we'd have beautiful babies in or nearing their teens by the time we were in our forties, I'd be teaching kindergarten and living on a farm. Oh, I had a plan. I knew what age I'd be married (22), the age I'd start having babies (24), how many children I'd have (4), and even their names (Kayla, Sarah, Brian, and Rachel).

Hahahahahahahahahahaha.

So am I where I wanted to be? Nope. Not so much.

I did not plan to be a tattoo-sporting, homeschooling, divorced-and-remarried stepmother in a blended family, living in the city.

Why has this been swimming around in my head all day today? Because that's not the answer I gave to my friend. The answer I gave was a resounding yes. Absolutely. Ok, so I didn't do any of the big things I thought I might. I haven't trekked across India barefoot with only a spoon and a change of underwear. I haven't discovered a cure for anything or become a saint. I can't even make a decent-looking pie crust. (They taste fine, I'm just pie-crust-crimping impaired.)

But I love my life. My wonderful husband loves me, and even more important, respects and supports me. My wonderful, kind, creative children love me and love one another. I have a tattoo. I live in a lovely warm home. I swing in a back yard hammock. I have friends and family who love me and who know I love them. I have chickens and a garden.

I haven't overcome my many faults. I am still impatient, cross, hasty, impulsive, sentimental, lazy, shy, and not very serious or ambitious. But now I like myself anyway. I've come to terms with the fact that my hair is never going to be glossy and thick and straight. I've decided to take up the guitar just so that I can learn something new. I'd still like to move to the country but it's not going to ruin my life if it never happens. At 40, I wake up grateful for the blessings I've been given instead of feeling unhappy about the things that I don't have.

After spinning this in my head today I realized that I answered a different question than the one my friend asked. Am I where I wanted to be? No. Am I where I want to be?

That's the question I answered. I wouldn't trade any of this for that imaginary life. Not one thing.

Tomorrow I'll be 40

Tonight I celebrated my birthday with my mom and sisters. We went out for a lovely meal and to Sweet Life Patisserie for dessert. I was given handknit socks (I guess all that hinting worked), books, chocolate, and cheesecake. And great company. And a pooping moose.My heart and my feet will be toasty while I relax with sweets and a couple good books. Life is good.