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“Mom, your life used to be like an inspired French movie. Now it’s like an ABC sitcom.” – Rosie

We all have those things we are trying to be aware of, or do better at, or get, or accomplish.  (Or maybe we all aren’t – you big lazy slobs who are just *enjoying* your lives can get on out.  Mine is all about the misery involved in bettering myself.)

Most of my friends kick ass at work, or they teach yoga classes, or constantly correct their diet, or read parenting books, or paint, or write poetry, or take pictures.  Some of the people in my life are teenagers, so they just proclaim their misery from angsty mountaintops, as though the rest of us are responsible.  And some of the people in my life are young children, so they just cry and scream and whine with devout intensity, but without making sense.  For example, today’s mantra for nearly an hour from Ari was ‘But I wanted to close the door myself.’

#butiwantedtoclosethedoormyselfbutiwantedtoclosethedoormyselfscreamscreamscream

The intensity was overwhelming.  He is a mighty powerful soul with limited power, and trapped in a small body.

Growing as a person comes in stages.  These babies can’t help it.  Watching what June traverses just trying to get across a room, from navigating Ari’s messes and erratic behavior to the ever-changing landscape of laundry and snacks, simply because she needs to know what is on the other side, that tells you all you need to know about how much youthful curiosity drives our behavior.  At least for a couple of years.

And now she’s learning to walk!  It’s an unstable, dangerous looking act.  She has no idea if she’ll be able to do it, every. single. time.  But she keeps trying.  She loves the feeling of those feet on the ground, of seeing everything one foot higher.  Every time she falls on her butt. She’s terrible at it.  It’s pathetic.

But for a week or so now, she tries over and over.  And we all know she will master the skill, but she doesn’t know that.  It’s just something new, and she likes the feeling of it.

I 100% get it.

Rosie and I dug through an old box of memorabilia and pictures the other night, and shit, man, I used to do all kinds of fun stuff that was a little bit scary.  I applied for jobs I wasn’t qualified for, I dodged trains on bridges.  I visited cities I didn’t know with no money or maps or contacts (and this was pre-Google Maps, kids).  I just indulged in curiosity.

There’s always new terrain, friends.  I can’t sit around this place raising kids and painting my nails and reading Martha Stewart Living trying to find new and creative recipes without getting restless.  I don’t care how much ‘but some people have it so much worse’ baloney you read about, there is no grace in deciding to do nothing with your life because you are comfortable.  Imma wobble and fall on my butt and look stupid trying to find new things to do.

Mwah!