Wednesday, September 5, 2012

The Way We Pictured It



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A set place for everything, meals that look like nouvelle cuisine, satiny bras with bottoms to match. When I daydreamed about my adult life, this is how I imagined it.

Instead, I sit here typing, holding a blue coffee mug that doesn't match any others in this house. I've got a box of noodles, jarred sauce, and thawed chicken breasts planned for dinner - and do you really want to know about my faded flowered underwear and once-upon-a-time-white bra? I'd answer no; if you read it, you'll picture it, and now I'm sorry for what your mind just showed you.

My gushy butt is on a mismatched chair that's not even shabby chic. Our crafty coffee table is unintentionally crafty via Hot Wheel cars scraped across its top not that many summers ago -- and not because it was seized by a knowing eye at a street fair.

I have papers at my feet because I can't decide on the best way to file and also keep everything I have going on in my life handy so that I can find it again. Easily. It's hard to remember what name I've given to what file on any given day.

I need a way to outsmart myself, and I have none.

Did I think I'd be a woman who'd enter middle age with a bottom so soft and flabby it hurt to sit on a church basement folding chair on donut Sunday? In my wildest dreams, did I envision triceps so loose they'd enter my field of vision when I'd angle cut carrots for dinner?

One promise I made to myself for my life as an adult was to never let myself, or my life, "go." Letting yourself go, you know, it means exactly that - letting things happen, no plan. Letting go is the reason the muumuu exists. Just - everything on my body, make a run for it, see how far you can get before someone tries to stop you.

Run, triceps! Run, glutteus maximus! before your owner says enough and returns you back to order.

Ha. They started running years ago and no one's yelled come back! since.

It's hard to say what's stronger; the desire for life as I dreamed it would be: bright white morning sunlight pouring in through billowy curtains dreamily parted open by a pair of yoga-strong arms. Or the reality -- one curtain panel yanked to the side by a still sleep-dizzy hunched over woman who just trenched her back by stepping on a dryer ball that fell out of last night's laundry, muttering to herself about it being 6:00 a.m. already. 

I had choices, but I never took the time to ponder. I could have planned; what things went in my home, how my days would go, the domestic table place settings and enchanting meals, everything - so much better.

My God it sounds so sad, doesn't it? Nothing in my house - especially me - is neat or thought out or perfectly matched.

Except for the first thing that I see when I open my bedroom door every morning. To my right, one precisely placed next to the other - displayed and arranged to the equally measured height and space in between them as the tape measure directed me to; in frames decided upon after comparing 15 other blacks from flat to gloss, on matting that was felt between thumb and middle finger for thickness and held up against color swatches for the white closest to the color of clouds - are portraits of my three boys, each one in a daffodil yellow shirt.

I spent forever deciding on the exact yellow of those shirts.

* * * 


Image via flicker cc

  


44 comments:

  1. Clean houses containing matching furniture and toned-assed women are never fun to be in.

    Here's to boys in yellow shirts!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. And, again, for the 50th time, I ask:

      why don't you buy the house across the street??

      xo

      Delete
  2. And I would so much rather hang around at your house...it sounds so comfortable and happy! (Plus I KNOW there would be yummy food...even if some portion of it came out of a jar!)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Andrea, no internet secret: I wish you were here to hang out at my house, too.

      xo

      Delete
  3. If it makes you feel any better, I have frames in my house that have been empty for over a year just waiting for me to get the photos printed. And my triceps flap in the wind. But my kids smile at me every single day. That's something, right?

    ReplyDelete
  4. I love that they are all wearing well thought out happy yellow shirts. Organized is overrated. I still want to find a good filing system though. I will go down looking for an easy way to deal with the paper. Then I will finally be happy with my mismatched mugs.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh, Dana: so nice to see you here.

      I hope we get treated to your posts, your lovely words and photography: again soon?

      xo

      Delete
  5. i know those yellow shirts.

    i love this.

    ReplyDelete
  6. You have no idea how much I needed to read this post today. I'm moaning (inside) about things being not 'just so' and I love for things to be just so. But, there are things in our lives, the people in our lives, like your boys in the yellow t-shirts that are just perfect. These are the things I need to remember. I'm taking stock today, thanks to you. xo

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. To know that I helped an incredible person like you, Heidi...I can't even express my joy.

      xo

      The internet is wonderful.

      Delete
  7. I never believed my life, or I would be the way we are. I don't think I could have even imagined it, if I'd been trying! Glad I'm not the only one!

    ReplyDelete
  8. I bet the portraits of your boys are special, and doesn't their placement on the wall and their matching shirts (yellow - the happy color!)just show what really matters to you?

    Matching bra and panties went out the window when I started nursing, and now I wear granny panties to prevent panty lines and December or not, I wear my Christmas-print panties from Target.

    Boy, I bet that was too much information. But you were sharing,so...sorry. :-)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Between friends? Never TMI.

      Also: yellow is my favorite color.

      Delete
  9. I am always saying 'this wasn't in the brochure' so much of what life turns into wasn't but if we keep looking for what we thought was in that brochure we miss all of the other amazing stuff in between

    that was a beautiful post

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, Sharron.

      I enjoyed visiting your blog...anyone who questions their sanity is my kind of person.

      xo

      Delete
    2. its so cool that you stopped by my blog, thanks for taking the time to visit and leave a comment. Comments make my day

      am I too old to use words like cool...don't care it was cool thanks x

      Delete
  10. ha. i figure if your house is spotless you have too much time on your hands...or too much money...smiles...portraits are the most important anyway....

    ReplyDelete
  11. It's not that I want cohesion or premeditation...I just want my life to look like an adult runs it. Never has, never will.

    But I string together the minutes, days, hours my kids are happy, really well fed, heard, respected, and goofy. I add up the water balloons and the hikes and the art projects. And I'm doing okay.

    (Baby carrots make triceps unnecessary. Just saying.)

    ReplyDelete
  12. Oh!! Hot tears. What a POST. I think I have that photograph in my 'House' file... how it (and I) were going to look. Hmmm.

    I'm remembering the mornings I've awakened in a panic, that I'll never get there, never get organized, never get on top of it all, that I'm on that downhill slope already and there's no going back.

    Encourages me to know that even you, the Empress, struggle with this level of the day to day.

    (PS Just bought 7 new variously colored folders in the ongoing and I fear vain attempt to 'organize'... now that the four drawers of the file cabinet are filled to bursting...am taking over a book shelf ha ha ha)

    XXX

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Ann, we are so much alike.

      Same cloth, same silent thoughts...everything.

      A joy to know you.

      A treasure, such a treasure, to have you as a friend.

      Delete
  13. You just spend time on the decisions that matter. Good for you!
    I am 40 years old and have had a plan all my life. Even with quite a bit of adjusting, the plan never worked out like I thought it should.
    Being flexible and going with the flow is not always a bad thing (it's actually never a bad thing), but feeling like you have to have a plan in a life of which you can really only control a minimal portion can take a big toll - and I still ended up with the soft butt and the wiggly triceps.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you so very much, Kerstin. I enjoyed our twitter tonight.

      The internet is so wonderful.

      xo

      Delete
  14. Yellow is my favorite color.

    It's like sunshine. With sunshine, who needs matchy matchy furniture and mugs?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. LOVE YELLOW.

      And you just gave me an idea, A. I am going to buy a set of 4 matching YELLOW mugs tomorrow.

      You're so awesome.

      Delete
  15. Awww, I love this. And yet, darling woman, you seem to not realize that we, your adoring readers, picture you on a pedestal...even with your granny panties and faded bra...ok, you didn't say granny panties, you said "faded flowered underwear"...I own those too. So you see, I love knowing that I wear the same kind of panties as the Empress. You will never fade in our eyes...don't you know that by now? xo

    ReplyDelete
  16. Wow, this is such a fantastic bit of writing. I know those feelings so well...my office looks like the household dumping ground; I'm too tired to do dishes; in my mind, I look so much better in my clothes than I look in the mirror... But, I will remind myself about your and your yellow shirts, and it will help me not stress about some of those other things. Thank you.

    ReplyDelete
  17. My life doesn't look anything like I thought it would as an adult. I just keep telling myself that I'm not really an adult yet. That day might never come.

    ReplyDelete
  18. Tricep line was comic brilliance. Just wanted to point that out. :)

    ReplyDelete
  19. The triceps comment made me laugh. A sense of humour is a great accessory in life, don't you think? Much better than chairs or crockery.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. YES.

      Laugh or you'll cry.

      And these waddly arms?? Just about have me doing the ugly Lucy cry.

      xo

      Delete
  20. I smile at the thoughts I had of adulthood (the ones I can remember, of course; I've blocked out the rest). I know I am nowhere near the woman I thought I would be, but when I look at papers strewn across the dining room table, when I pick up one sock whose match is not even on the same damn level of the house, when I step, yet again, on the Legos, I smile amid the pain because WHOO LAWD DO THOSE SUCKERS HURT. I am not the woman I thought I would be, but I am continuously finding that I am still becoming the woman I am meant to be.

    Also, that nonartfully mismatched chair is probably the most comfy in the house, that blue mug your favorite. We did make choices. I bet, like me, you can't imagine those choices having gone differently if it would mean those three faces were no longer on the wall. Fit triceps are liars.

    ReplyDelete
  21. I love you. And your butt is not squishy. Have you felt mine?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Have I felt yours??

      Ahem? BLogHER??

      How quickly we forget...

      xo

      Delete
  22. Oh Alexandra, you just described me, my house and my life. And now with this broken leg I am even WORSE...

    I worry constantly that my lack of organization and being in the present will somehow make me miss my child's limited time with me. I waste weekends because I am often too tired or because I've failed to plan something with him.

    I hate that nothing matches in my house too, and so we resorted to buy furniture sets to fill our rooms...I don't know which is worse! ;-)

    ~Hugs~ xo

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. This is why we will always know each other, Ceci...no matter how much time passes.

      xo

      Delete
  23. Gorgeous post. Letting go is freedom. Next time you see a quivering tricep, let that serve as a reminder. I will too.

    oxxoxo

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you so much, Ann.

      It is work, it is hard...it is so much to just let it go where it's meant to go and tell ourselves, "I am right where I'm supposed to be."

      Hard work....

      Thank you for all you've done for my life.

      Really.

      Delete
  24. saggy squashy smooshy, who the hell cares (and I've seen you in person & know that none of those things is true) - because this post is strong, full of intention, and precision. Plus it's beautiful. Plus you've hit every nail on every head for so many of us as we sit in a mismatched mid-life chair & think...huh? And then we look at our families...and realize that the coffee table doesn't really matter. The yellow shirts in our lives? THEY matter. beautiful.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. That right thar that you all saw at BlogHer??

      Smoke and mirrors, baby. (courtesy of Spanx)

      xo

      Delete
  25. This echos the war in my heart. Word for word.

    Only mine is not as funny and doesn't make me laugh the way yours just did. :-)

    ReplyDelete
  26. Sometimes I look around and I wish I were this, or that, or that I had this or that. Then I look at the floor and I see teeny shoes and I see sesame street stickers stuck on the kitchen floor and I wouldn't trade it. Never ever ever.

    ReplyDelete
  27. I can really relate to this one. I don't have much that matches either! I can't say I have mane regrets though.

    I loved this line:
    "I need a way to outsmart myself, and I have none."

    Me too!

    ReplyDelete

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