Baby Primeval

I’m watching her swagger across the room, her hands up, hips swinging in that self-conscious “I’m just learning how to put it all together” kind of way. A crash course in evolution is happening right before our eyes. The baby primeval is a living fossil. A blueprint of man and womankind.

her broom from

We don’t remember our own development (or being kept alive) but we get ringside seats to watch evolution firsthand when we have children. As they grow, we can see the sparks igniting in their brains. Their daily realizations of their body’s capabilities and limitations.

If you blink, the moment’s gone. So I stare at her. I marvel in her reasoning process as she learns baby physics. Things go down. Water is wet. In and out and ouch.

Fiona Marie from

I wonder at the biology in action as she masters and strengthens each muscle group, each brain hurdle cleared for the next daring bodily feat like climbing and standing from a squat. Everything we take for granted we can do. Biological imperatives are driving her. We are just here to keep her between the lines and on the road. Her ancient body programming is doing the rest.

More Flowers and Sadness

After my April post on traumatic stress had diminished, I began to warm up to Spring and the hope it brings. Eventually I was convinced by May’s visual barrage of green and the loud insistent chorus of birds to accept Spring’s arrival of Hope.

weed flowers from May Brought Spring Flowers on

We’ve taken strolls and played in new sandbox sand. Powerwashed and pruned. Fiona’s “eaten” dirt and rocks, of course.

That communing with the Earth that seems so come Summer necessary.

Irises by the river from May brings Spring Flowers on

As our memories of Easter egg hunting fun fade, we are moving on to harder memories to bear. Today’s post brings with it a wish for a Happy Birthday to my dear Mother-In-Law and a prayer and sadness for the failing health of my Father-In-Law.

Easter eggs on the church lawn from May brings Spring Flowers on

My husband took pictures of the children to the hospital and wrote on the bottom in silver sharpie, “Our children are our legacy.”

The prettiest flower from May brings Spring Flowers on

Life is the garden for us to plant ourselves in. And his family has rooted themselves strongly with their love for one another. They may have misunderstandings and dysfunctions and they still show up for each other. Devotion and identity.

Evening Primrose from May brings Spring Flowers on

We are taking each day given to us as a blessing, revering our perspective, and just getting through the best we can.  Our children will learn as we do. With grace and weakness and love, the Summer is about to move us on through our grief.

Clover on May brings Spring flowers on

I’m reminded every year how much I love the weeds that Summer brings. Fields of buttercups, clover, and Queen Anne’s Lace steal my heart and suggest for those listening, seasons will circle around again and again and,one day, pass me by too with their return.

I Wanted it to be OK

I wanted it all to be OK but it wasn’t. In my heart, I just knew that everything would never be OK, although I pretended it would. I’d act casual, chirping to people, “it always turned out OK in the end”. Although it actually always did, I wasn’t buying my own line. I just wanted people to think I was.

Salmon carnations and soldago from

Seems I’d been missing an important ingredient to my happiness recipe. The ability to separate my emotions from the happenings in my life and the world around me. I secretly didn’t believe that I could handle whatever happened. I pretended I had resilience but my faith in my abilities was non-existent. I had no safety net. Just a multitude of anxieties like rocks to make me sink all the quicker.

But this year, I’m not making everything that happens all about me. Used to be both good and bad reflected my worth and my deserved-ness. Everything bad that happened was the inevitable proof I was bad and unworthy and meant I should quit. The good occasions were just biding the time until the bad happened.

Salmon carnations and soldago from

I’m done with that place. I’m done with creating uproar to start the chain reaction that leads to inevitable badness. What started with stressed out then became overwhelmed, I feel bad about me, treat my symptoms, still feel bad about me, and repeat.

Forever ago, the uproar would have been the opportunity to start smoking again. Or get drunk. That is thankfully never a now option. Where I might have gone and had a few drinks that led to a few more drinks and then the smoking, I now choose to talk to my husband, write in my journal, and unload to a therapist. Bad things do happen to good people. But just not as often as they used to.

Salmon carnations and soldago from

What changed? My new perception is that I’m allowed to be happy, that I have self-control, that I’ll handle what comes my way, I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again,  and not everything everyone does pertains to my worth. In fact a small part of what people are doing pertains to my worth. And those nice reflections, we don’t see those. We swat smiles and compliments out of the air like a buzzing bug.

I am declaring my new life perceptions, choices, and boundaries as better and nicer and more hopeful and mine to create. Feels pretty awesome to know the difference.

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