Sunday, March 22, 2009
When I have photos for this blog, I often have long detailed stories to go along with them. I write the stories in my mind as I'm drifting off to sleep, daydreaming while driving, or feeding baby critters at work. They are really lovely stories filled with deep thoughts, irony, wisdom.... and when I finally find the time to sit and write, I come up with thin skeletons of what I had imagined.
Lillie and I were out front one afternoon discussing the expectations of a second grader in school. Of course, discussing anything with a seven year old doesn't follow a linear progression, so one has to be open to the side roads. We also talked of the different birds at the bird feeder and how one tells the difference between girls and boys; the relationship of the size of an egg to the size of a bird; and a thousand other what-ifs. I was able to catch her for just a few minutes on digital 'film'. The above photo was one of the last before she took off with her baby doll on her bike to a neighbor's house. Of course there were more thrills elsewhere compared to boring mom, her detailed and zoologically correct answers, and her camera.
As she pedaled off singing a song I'd never heard, I thought about how many different hats I wear. I mostly live my life from one day to the next always wanting to do better as the days pass--better as a person, as a parent, as a friend, as a sister.... I think I can't do any better as a daughter as I pretty much suck at that all the way around. But my family takes me as I am. I am so lucky. Let's see--mom, wife, animal caretaker, photographer, writer, artist, nurse, maid, taxi driver, social planner, activities director, chef, caterer, seamstress, interior designer, gardener, neighbor, babysitter, neighborhood activist, PTA mom, teacher, student.... I only get paid for doing one of these things.... my life is full!! I suppose I shouldn't call them hats as much as Mad Skills!!
I find making goals in life is a tough scheme for me--if every day is different, planning is a challenge. I do hold out hopes for--visiting Paris, a cross country sabbatical in an RV (apparently I will be doing this alone as Brent doesn't rank this particular adventure very high on his list of things to do), living in a beach house on a spectacular beach complete with hardwood floors and gossamer window coverings that billow with the sea breeze, collecting vintage photos of women in their everyday lives, and perhaps working at different wildlife rescue organizations to keep in touch with the animals.
I rarely think of my age in terms of being older than many or younger than a lot--it's only driven home when some young kid/school principle/stranger puts a "Mrs" in front of my name when addressing me. I tell them that Mrs Nowak is my mother-in-law and that my name is Robin. I couldn't care less about manners or formality. My name is my name. I also work with people that aren't much older than Forrest and for the most part I can fit in--for the most part. I admire their resilience in being in their early 20s and all that entails, especially their nocturnal forrays in to the land of clubs and pubs; getting back home at 4am just in time to shower and make their 6am shifts and performing their tasks with determination and a sly smile about what had only hours earlier transpired.
Soooo this isn't what I set out to write about this morning. I set out to write about something deeper, more metaphysically connected, something someone would take away as an ah-ha! moment. In my mind as I lay in bed this morning, what I intended was so that. I was awed by my own intellect.