The other morning my 5 year old daughter (while the two of us were brushing our teeth) carefully examined me, and the next moment made the comment “mommy, you will be a granny soon”. Surprised I looked at her, wondering what on earth could have triggered such a strange thought? She then continued cheerfully “your hands are becoming all wrinkly, and I see that your forehead is making the same lines as on grandma’s face”. I think if it weren’t for the fact that I have promised myself long ago to one day grow old gracefully, I might have felt really depressed at that moment in time. Because everything she said was true; I am busy aging and I can’t hide it, and neither can I stop it. And to be honest, I’m proud of it! I love the fact that I can just be me, that I’m comfortable in my skin, and that every single crinkle, line and mark on my body is proof that I am alive and that I have lived!
Have you ever watched children staring unashamedly wide eyed at Christmas lights? The mystified awe playing across little faces. I remember, as a little girl, the fascination that captured my heart around Christmas. How mystified I was by the twinkling lights, like the stars from heaven on earth for only a season.
If you ask me to sing a Christmas carol, I would most likely spontaneously burst out with "Here's the season to be jolly! Falalalala lala la la" And most likely 100% off key. And most likely only that line. Why, you ask?
Wednesday was a long and hectic day for me, my husband got home really tired, and apparently the kids had a rough day as well. After I’ve set the dinner table, my 5 year old daughter decided that she didn’t feel like potato salad as a side and started crying, and my 2 year old son followed shortly while he was screaming at the top of his lungs (he missed his afternoon nap for some unknown reason?). Needless to say, dinner was cancelled! Our usual peaceful family time around the dinner table was ruined. We had to settle for second hand time, and just swallowed our food to not go to bed hungry.