gI often regale Matt with my fondness for older women. Not just any older woman, but believe you me, I know one when I spot one. It may be in the health food store, the farmers market, or a coffee shop, I am captivated. I think it comes down to a certain disposition. Weathered. Brave.
I do not know how many times I have told Matt that I can not wait to grow old. I eagerly anticipate the day I find my first gray strand. My friend Britt and I have a running gag about coloring our hair, she says she will not color her hair until she finds gray, and I say I will only color mine until I find gray. In all honesty, I think there is something strikingly beautiful about embracing older age, gray hair and all. And those ridiculous anti-wrinkle creams, please. Wrinkles are the quintessential quality of being a wise older woman.
We had a new patient appointment with a Developmental Specialist this past week for Noah. I went in expecting to retell Noah’s birth till now, speak of our concerns, and get a referral for additional therapies. This is second nature. Instead, it was a three and a half hour appointment that left us teeming with directions and possibilities. After the mad dinner rush and bedtime regimen, we got the kids to sleep. As I laid on my floral flannel sheets, one child beside me, and one on top, a barrage of emotions swept over me. Coarse and fragile. Somber and hopeful. Disquieted and strangely soothed. Tears welled up in my eyes. I gained a new perspective of my son that day… An angle that I do not yet know how to grasp.
It’s refreshing to be reminded of the potential your child bears. How despite his challenges, he is consistently rising to meet the goals and expectations that are presented to him, and throwing a few of his own personal goals in there as well. The unsettling part of speaking to his gains, is that it brings to light the trials with which confront him (and us).
It is a dichotomy of emotions and information and directions.
How hard do you push? Is there ever a point at which you settle?
hearts cry out, he tip-
toes and smiles, toothy grin
I felt myself weather a bit. Coming to terms. Accepting and yet resisting. Reminded of the beauty that follows.
Abba, lead us, sur-
render my searching spirit
sustain us this day
tickled that he still fits in the bumbo chair
At 8 months, his thighs were too chubby :)
Enchanting young man.