Growing Up

This year is my last year of my 40s. I have a cutie little boy and a happy marriage. I love my home and where I live. I dance and make music with friends. I have two little businesses. I feel complete and blessed. I'm ready for the next 50 years. But before I get there, my aim is to clean out the clutter in my life.

After putting on a fun but demanding show on April 14th with dance friends and hosting my family all that week and then heading off on vacation, I've gone into clean and organize mode. I'm still there. Putting pieces into place. It's satisfying but I'm a maniac.

I keep telling myself, "No, when you complete all these things, you will not THEN be happy. You are happy now." I am run by a little program or app that tells me all the time that once I wash the dishes or fold the laundry, I will be happy and relax. But, I never do relax after one task is complete. I'm always on to the next thing.

My little son likes to use a napkin when he eats. And he hilariously finds tiny specks of debris and picks them up like they offend him. Did he get that from me? I hope I haven't made him too fussy, But, then I worry that maybe because I'm so fussy and detail-oriented, he will become very, very, very sloppy and messy. Sigh. I just don't know.

It is in my hands and not. Mostly, not, I think, and I need to learn to let go and let go, again.

A new delight in my son is how he shapes his words. The syllables are rounded and drawn out in his own particular way. "Hands" is lower case and sounds a little like he is saying "hans." "No" is especially cute and round, but said with a little chirp, too. It is his main response to my questions -- do you want milk? "no!" do you want to have your diaper changed? "no!"

An there he goes, toddling away from me as if to say, you have your work to do and I have mine.