You know that moment right after a magician performs a magic trick and dramatically flings their cape with widened eyes, exclaiming, “Tada!”? Well, I realized today, and for a while now, that I do the same thing. Only with my friends. Let me explain.
As my phone call switched from the privacy of my Bluetooth headphones to the car’s stereo, I heard my friend Kristen narrating the antics of her saltwater tank’s sea creatures: “The huge hermit crab is prying the little one out of his shell.” I imagined her nose pressed against the glass, witnessing nature’s Wild West show, all while providing a lively commentary. I would look at Dave, reminiscent of the magician above, feeling the urge to say, “Can’t you see how awesome my friend is?” With his phone to his face, my eyes only left the road momentarily before I refocused.
I find myself doing that a lot. This coming Friday, I’ll likely do it again. A small gathering of three different groups of people, most of whom know each other, while others know of each other. But I know all of them and think they’re fabulous in their own way, which will probably result in me “Ta-Daing” all night long.
As another long weekend draws to a close, I look toward the work week. It’s manageable, with gaps for trips to the YMCA for workouts. Being just a three-minute drive away, I will manage to squeeze in enough exercise within an hour. But with two hours, like tomorrow? You better believe I’ll get all my steps in and then some with that kind of flexibility.
Over a pot roast dinner, I calculated and told Dave, “Did you know we’re about 20% of the way through parenting?” It’s actually 22%. I feel conflicted about this. On one hand, parenting feels like it stretches into forever, with Evelyn’s insatiable desire to play Paw Patrol and go to the playground. But then, realizing we’re a quarter of the way through until she’s an adult reminds me that it is finite. I empathize with parents struggling with an empty nest—the transition from “they need me” to “no, they don’t” is slow, yet seen in this way, fast.
I really enjoy being Evelyn’s Mom. She’s patient, attentive, curious, and capable. Engaged in gymnastics, ballet, swimming, and more, she often does what she’s asked and interacts with other kids, genuinely enjoying what she does. We’ve talked with her about her shorter leg, a byproduct of having Posteromedial bowing of the tibia, and she seems to understand that in a handful of years, she’ll need surgery. As of now, she wants to be tall and desires her shorter leg to be lengthened—a more extensive, painful, and longer-term recovery. If she changes her mind later on, the less invasive option is to damage the growth plate in the longer leg. It will be her decision, and although there’s no need to make that choice now, I appreciate hearing her thoughts on what she wants.
My body is sore. My mid and lower back and hips feel like drying cement when I stand. If only we had a hot tub, I’d be in it right now. Growing up, we had a hot tub. When it snowed, I loved being in it and daring my brother to run all the way around the house in nothing but his trunks. Of course he did it and so did I, again and again and again. Jumping back in felt like a shock, like piercing needles. Oh, to be a kid again.
I’m hopeful that stretching will help, but if it doesn’t, maybe hot yoga will be an idea for the future.
Time to watch another episode of “For All Mankind” before bed. Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 