this is the year. not because of anything that might make sense to a scientist. not because of the mayan calendar or preconceived notions or new year's resolutions. it's just...the year.
two kids and done. tubes are tied. i turned a corner and the year changed and all of a sudden i'm swinging from the rafters toward forty and realizing that perhaps i should harness up all that i know in case i need to use it one day. then again, i just had to google 'toward vs. towards' because i found myself with mouth pursed and brow furrowed, left ring finger hovering over the 's' key longer than necessary and i got sidetracked into wondering what i would have done without google and if the dawn of all of this technology has made me more or less intelligent.
this is the year where i start to see my daughter as someone. not just as some mysterious creature taking shape but as the little girl who will become a young woman who will start remembering most of her childhood from here on out. this is the year i have to get it right so that all of the other years will balloon out in the right direction.
this is the year my tiny baby boy will walk and talk and become a toddler. and while he toddles i will slow down and cry at each milestone because (a) it will be the last milestone of that kind for me and (b) i am such a fucking cliche.
this is the year i will make soap by hand. because pinterest showed me how. i will close certain chapters and maybe write new ones and i will continue to unload a verbal barrage upon bryan when he walks in the door at the end of the day because i've been dying to unload the nonsensical garbage i've read online while the kids are resting. i will plan more art projects than i have time to do, i will photograph even the most mundane of moments with obsession. i will continue to make grand plans for the future that include vacations and potential tattoos and new gadgets for the kitchen. i will make pasta or butter from scratch and then wonder why i ever felt the need to do so.
this is the year i will make good on my promise to bryan to write.
this is the year i will write.
this is the year i will write.
this is the year i will write.
this is the year i will remember that i always said life would begin in my thirties and realize i was wrong.
it's forty.
this is the year.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
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What a wonderful, inspiring post. Yes I feel like this is the year too. I'm 41 now. Two children, last one now at school. Jacked in the job that was sucking the lifeblood out of me. This is the year...!
ReplyDeleteI love this. This is the year!
ReplyDeleteI feel like this year is going to be big! It's an energy, it's in the air, I don't know...I just know it's big for those of us who can feel it. Happy 2012 to you, Krista! And, I'm looking forward to reading what you write this year!
ReplyDeleteI'm so looking forward to sharing this year with you - I still wonder at the woman you have become - did she really come from me? Just be prepared - if Finn evolves as you did, then she will that much smarter than you are about certain things and you will wonder at the "being" of this wonderful child. Write? yes, you will write and this is what gives all of us a peek inside your fantabulous creative mind - photos and all. Write so we can keep reading and learning and feeling the words you put to type. I love you Kritter!!!
ReplyDeleteAnd which is it - "towards" or "toward"? I can never figure that one out.
ReplyDeleteHere's to a year full of writing!
Great post! Indeed this is definitely going to be the year. This is the year to make things happen. Have a wonderful 2012
ReplyDeletei just have to say, lady, i am feeling a wee bit betrayed. there you were over on sweet|salty, yesterday, saying you were doing it wrong. saying you were struggling with mamahood and it's all consuming-ness, and eff those folks who could keep the creativity positively POURING out, while you were swathed in sleepless non-productivity, and Mama is what you are, and i thought
ReplyDelete"hey. me too."
so i pop over here to see what is up, and there you are. two children, (TWO!) one of which is a (deliciously smooshable) infant, the other right on this sidea (adorable and challenging) 4, and...there are these photos. these real and fleeting photos that picture-perfect the real and the surreal and the feelings inside. and there are these words, these endless and gorgeous words about mama-ing and identity and everything that gets slaughtered in between. and i'm thinking 'dammit, woman. here i am, thinking yer my comrade in arms, and *this* is what yer putting out? i can barely write a fucking grocery list, let alone anything coherent or meaningful or sustained for more than a blog comment. dammit, woman.'
so, yeah, girl. this is yer year. write on, mama.
Yes. I have a good feeling about this year, too.
ReplyDelete