March 15, 2010

No Surprises Here

Well. At the ripe ole age of thirty, on this fabulously beautiful day in March 2010, I have finally ceased to be shocked by people and life in general. It only took the last ten years to really put this giant puzzle together. But I think I've got the big picture now. Granted, I'm running on approximately one hour of sleep... so maybe I'm in a bit of a haze.

Having children certainly prepares one for this so-called real world. When you have actually been barfed, pooped, peed upon (repeatedly...if not weekly... sometimes daily)... well, the other crap that people throw at you just does not seem to compare.

Sing along with me to Aerosmith: "Ja ja ja ja jaded..."

Cheers, everyone! I need a drink...wait, I do not want to end a blog post on a jaded note.

Okay. So, my Friday morning spinning instructor (Ironman Gerry "I.G." - more to come on him) is a bit of my therapist. He does not know he's my therapist, but he is. I am saving thousands of dollars in shrink fees each year. Thank you, I.G.

Each spin class I.G. warms us all up, ordering us to have eyes closed and minds cleared. [FYI- do not laugh at spin class. You will have millions of avid spinners slicing you open with their hard-soled shoes.] Last week, while listening to The Fray over the loud speakers, hearing the whir of forty crazy folks on spinning bikes at the rich hour of six o'clock in the morning, I.G. said something that was very profound - especially when one is wearing padded spandex shorts and vintage clipless pedaled shoes. He said: You must be in each moment, even the painful ones, even when you want to quit, sleep or roll over and crawl into a ditch. Why? Because any given moment could be your last. So you better be grateful. Live each and every painful and joyous moment with a spirit of love and gratitude.

Seems grade-schoolishly simple. But I am glad someone said it out loud. I am one to forget this, more often than I should. And shame on me.

And therefore, on this bright shiny day when I feel a tad blue/irritated/ overwhelmed, in a spirit of humility and with a small sheepish grin on my face...I am grateful, filled with joy, and glad to be breathing, no matter how barely breathing I may seem.

Love to you, on to that drink.


becky said...

If it weren't for a bit of Zen, I don't think I could survive mamahood either. I'm with ya on that drink.

Jennifer said...

Speaking of drinks, do you happen to know where there is a liquor store close by? Just email me! We need some vodka in da house!