I have grey hair. And wrinkles. A back that’s often just a twinge away from hurting. A shoulder that clicks when I turn my head just so.
I have dry skin on my elbows and my heels. Teeth full of fillings. Only one ovary left.
I have a bread dough middle, a few extra pounds, hollow breasts.
I have 40 years behind me. Forty years as a daughter, granddaughter, niece. I have 34 years of shared sisterhood. Thirteen lucky years of loving my Sweetie. Eight years of being a mother to a son. Seven years mothering a daughter. Four years as a mother to three. And to sisters.
I have words. Ideas. Creativity.
Chaos. Inspiration. Fear.
Frustration. Exasperation. Salvation.
I have thick hair. A smile. A body that allows accomplishment and enjoyment.
I have exactly what I wanted. And more than I ever knew I could want.
I have this.
Jen lives with her partner John and their three children in western Massachusetts. Since 2009 Jen's been blogging at Momalom, where she mostly writes about her life as a mother writer, the demands and rewards of each, and what it means to be a creative person always striving for more. She works full time as a writer, editor, and social media strategist at a Massachusetts college but is usually thinking about how she can find more time to write. She's been a contributor to Project: Underblog since November 2012.
Simply beautiful.
Thanks, Amy!
It’s always better when we’re able to turn around the first words onto the paper from the dreaded woe is me I’m 40, my stomach is saggy, my boobs are worse, lament, moan, gripe, cry. This, though, is more observational. Yes, you have those things but choosing not to let those things hinder, or “have” you is worth more than any old complaining can give.
I almost deleted those first few paragraphs and started anew. But then the piece would have felt dishonest, I think. You say it better. Thank you.
It’s so easy to keep going once you start the cycle, but I love the turn around here. I think those opening paragraphs are important, it’s the recognizing the good and the mingling of the wonderful and the hard that strikes me.
I think that the biggest lesson I’ve learned from parenting is how to recognize that all those have nots I see constantly definitely do not outnumber the haves. That last picture sums it up so perfectly.
I so enjoy the beauty of your words!
P.r.e.a.c.h.
I made a list in an introspective month last year of how many of the unexpected turns in my life were spurred by a need for change and how many by fear.
I didn’t like the results. So for a while I kept a list of how many bad choices I have. How many self-imposed hurdles.
Then I reframed and counted, because I’m a counter, how many total years spent focused on language. On kindness. On doing my best even if I was on the wrong path.
I like that frame better. And I like this frame you’ve chosen for your photo.
Lovely! That’s a lot of years, and a lot of experience. I’m sure you have a lot of words to capture it all!
I love the use of the word “have.” To have these things versus to be these things. A much different perspective than we are used to. Thank you!
Beautifully written — all of your haves for the better and worse. But I see far more better.
What a difference a little leg love hug can make on attitude. These days I have to settle for a dog kiss, since my children are grown. But, a text or a call can turn my attitude around in a heartbeat. All of the things that you have, that you embrace, make me feel like I am not alone in my imperfection and in my blessings. You do have one thing that I wish I had – thick hair! What a sweet picture of the family