Phases.

Phases. Of the moon; of emotions; of my life...

I know everything is ephemeral. It's the nature of life. But knowing this doesn't mean that I'm any less sensitive to all the changes.

Yesterday I was in front of the mirror before my shower and I was staring at the bags under my eyes while I massaged an essential oil version of Ben Gay on my sore back. I felt so OLD. I couldn't believe who was staring back at me in the mirror. I looked down at my clothes- breastmilk, boogers and some mashed up banana- and let out a deep sigh. "This will all be a memory one day," I thought to myself. But I still felt frumpy and ugly.

I remembered someone once said to me "Getting old requires a sense of humor. You may feel 21 inside and then you look in the mirror and ask yourself 'Who in the hell is THAT old fart?' " That made me laugh back then and still makes me laugh. It's not like I want to stay young.  I wouldn't want to end up a woman full of denial and Botox. Staying youthful- yes. Staying young- just not possible. Life just feels difficult and monotonous right now. Every day the same ins and outs through mental pathways I've traveled down a thousand times. Every day longing to read a book or write a song or finish a project or take a yoga class and it all gets tabled for another day in some foggy future.

I always wipe tears- my children's and mine- with my shirt. As well as food, boogers, and whatever else comes up. I don't care lately what I look like because I don't have much time to. And does it really matter? I suppose once in a while I do make the time to go on a date with my husband and do my hair and make up but does it make up for the rest of the time I'm in soggy pajamas or wrinkled clothes (seriously, does any mother of two little ones have time for an iron)?

This kid thing is no joke. It feels heavy and bigger than my capabilities right now. I know it's just a phase and soon I will feel something else but for now... still sighing deeply.