Friday, October 03, 2008

the color orange

I'm diggin' being a mom lately. Might have something to do with acceptance. Am I finally accepting this as my lot, my choice, my life? I'm good at it. I like my kids. We dance, a lot. We sing, a lot. We listen to music, a lot. We laugh, a lot. We cry too. Life is good. And so am I.
Funny to be feeling this way when the rest of the world is seemingly going to pot.

Sometimes I think we're totally naive. Ian's casual, "She'll be right, mate," attitude (he's half Australian) is starting to rub off on me. We're totally living hand to mouth. But it's working. For now.

And you'd never know I was a native Vermonter to see the tiny woodpile in front of our house. Despite the fact that we burn wood, solely, for heat. The wood's out there. We just have to go get it. "We'll get it done," says Ian. We will.

It's getting cold at night. There's even been talk of snow. The leaves have turned overnight. They're letting loose with one last cathartic howl. Fiery red, neon orange, electric yellow, livening up the mountains like a bunch of hippies who just don't want to wear that staid green business suit anymore.

I was growing tired of it too.

More to read about motherhood here, here and, it's true, here.