I have not been blogging lately because, to be honest, I have been introverting hard- like planning-my-escape-to-live-off-grid-in-the-mountains-never-to-be-heard-from-again hard- and the idea of even a one-sided conversation about life felt overwhelming and exhausting. The last few months have actually been very good, but not in an obvious sort of way. The days are long and this job is for the birds; I regularly turn in my resignation....but no one accepts. Each of the boys is going through a new and interesting life phase. Liam has hit what I can only assume is a preview of adolescence, complete with endless snark, eye-rolling and questionable fashion choices. Dexter turned three and continued doing life in his own way: loudly and recklessly, but with an extra year of experience under his belt. Lucky us. The chaos that follows that child everywhere is equal parts amusing and horrifying. And Rory- oh, my sweet Rory- keeping my stomach all twisted in knots without even meaning to. We dash from therapy appointment to therapy appointment, to doctor appointments, to homeschooling co-op, to co-op, to co-op and there are field trips and grocery shopping and floors that need mopped. We have lost people and that hurts and Rory is almost two now and still isn't walking or talking so people have started to catch on that something isn't quite right and we are learning to navigate awkward stares and invasive questions. I have suddenly realized the dark circles I thought were one good night's sleep away from disappearing are actually just a part of my face now and Liam keeps outgrowing his pants and our family and friends would like just a little attention and nothing is ever getting done. Also.... someone is always hungry- ALWAYS. HUNGRY. But you know what else? I started running. Early in the morning, before anyone wakes up. I get dressed quietly and sneak out the door and drive to the river. I watch the moon disappear. I run until the sun rises. I meet rabbits and cranes and the occasional deer. I felt the very first chill of Autumn. This morning, I smelled burning leaves for the first time. I don't think about a single thing except my feet hitting the ground for an entire hour and it is the best thing ever. And I have kept my houseplants alive for almost a year now. I talk to them and pet them and it is ridiculous and embarrassing but I don't even care. And last week I spent two hours curled up in a corner at the library by myself. And I have been remembering to wash my face every single morning- this is a big deal. And I have been studying mindfulness and meditation and falling in love with it all. And Ryan and I have been reading to each other from a ridiculous self-help book we found and sometimes it makes me laugh so hard I cry and, for whatever reason, reading this silly book together makes me like him even more. And I do like him. Ten years into this, and a whole lot of crazy, and I still really like this guy a lot. Plus, I have these kids- these beautiful kids. A few days ago, during a therapy assessment, I handed Rory a brush because his therapist told me to. I handed him the brush, shaking my head because I knew he would not know what to do with it, but he put that brush on his head and started brushing his hair. Of course, I cried... because every single thing he does is a miracle. It is hard to watch him struggle, and it is hard not knowing why he struggles, but I have never in my life felt the intense rush of joy I feel in his moments of accomplishment and I think really I am very lucky to feel that because most people will never get to experience it. Just before that, Dexter and Liam turned on YouTube and looked up Just Dance videos while we waited for the therapist to arrive. I walked into the living room to find them dancing in sync to some ridiculous pop song. It was pretty spectacular. I thought about them in fifteen years, laughing about how one of their favorite things to do together was this thing that was happening right this minute and maybe they never will but I, once again, marveled at what a privilege it is to be present for the beginning of a person's life; to have the opportunity to witness someone's memories be formed and to know them before they even know themselves. And we have this house that has quietly become a home. We have been here longer than we have ever been anywhere now and it is home. I pretend it is home because I buy cute table runners and decorate for the holidays and hang up family photographs but it is actually home because there is a red scratch down the hallway from when I moved the cast iron bench to the backyard by myself and a dent in the wall from a snowflake Liam threw when he was pretending to be Elsa. There is wax spilled from a candle lit during a girl's night in behind the couch- we sat drinking and laughing as it dripped, dripped down the side of the end table and pooled on the floor and I haven't leaned back there to scrap it up just yet. There is magic marker on the walls and paint splattered on the curtains and incense ash smeared on the mantle and the stupid front porch is always a mess and it is home. Growing roots has been frightening and bittersweet. My wandering heart goes thumpity when I think of a new direction I would like to go in and it is hard to say 'no' and to say 'calm down.' It is hard to stay still. However, if there is one thing moving a thousand times has taught me, it is this: there is no magical place that will make your life better and there is no clean slate that you won't eventually screw up and no matter how much greener you think that grass is going to be, it is still just grass and if you stay long enough you are going to get bored there too. I chose this place. I drove over a bridge at sunrise when I was nineteen years old with The Shins blasting through my Jeep speakers and I thought this would be a nice place to live....and then I lived here. I fell in love and became a mother and bought houses and sold houses and had my heart shattered into a million pieces a hundred times and met my very best friends- I really lived here. And it isn't going to get much better than that. So things are good.... and bad... but mostly good. And I am here. And I am here.
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WHO AM I?
I am Michelle: a wannabe hippie in love with a bonafide geek. We also spawned. I spend my days with our four wild, beautiful boy children and I overshare about our life online because I am a Millennial and that is what we do.
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