Now What?

 Youngest Child and I struck up a deal this afternoon just before I dropped him off at his D&D group. When we both got home, YC from D&D and me from walking the dog, we were going to create for an hour. And every day from here on.

So, I am here writing, for the first time in like forever. And he is supposedly upstairs working on his art.

Except, what do I write about?

Maybe about how my neck hurts? All the time. Yoga seems to help. But my lack of consistency with it does not. So I decided to be brave and signed myself up for a Yoga Class this Wednesday. Fingers crossed that I like the place because I splurged and bought myself the Newbie Introductory offer pass. Six for sixty. Sixty dollars for six sessions within the next six months.

I'm looking forward to having most of the day to myself. Dropping Freddi off at Doggie Daycare around 8:00ish. Then maybe Bentley's? But I might decide to go for my iced coffee at Dunkin Donuts instead.

I have been thinking I need to be more adventurous. Because life is short. Because I have been feeling restless.

So with that thought in mind, as soon as the fricking weather finally straightens out and actually decides to act like it's SPRING, I'm going to buy myself a train ticket and ride the rails from Montpelier to Brattleboro. Find a place to eat lunch. And then tour the downtown area until it's time to catch the train back to Montpelier. BY MYSELF.

Saturday DH and I went to my Aunt's funeral. We took the truck and DH drove, which is admirable considering the weather. Snowing hard, 18 inches before everything was said and done. What a mess.

I'm glad we went, not that funerals are ever fun. But my cousin W was there. Definitely not expecting her as she lives in Georgia. Haven't seen her since the last family reunion fling at her parent's house. Which was a few years ago.....not sure how long ago, but definitely before Covid.

Listening to all the things that my Aunt had done during her life, and the kind of mother she was to her four kids (my cousins) was impressive. It also left me feeling sad that she was gone. And also sad that I have not been able to be the same kind of mother to my two kids. I did not make their clothes, or patch them. Or grow and can our own vegetables. Or make amazing pies or homemade cookies so often that the cookie jar was always full.

And this was definitely not the childhood I had.

Yesterday I was watching  The Wizard of Oz as DH was getting ready to head out the door. And I told him about how every time I saw the Wizard of Oz I think about one of my grade school art projects. We were to make puppets of the characters of Wizard of Oz and then put on a puppet show. I had the Cowardly Lion. Was it assigned to me? Or did I choose it? That part I don't remember. What I do remember is how ashamed of my puppet I was. My Lion looked like......well, like a grade schooler had made it. My fellow classmate that had Dorothy? Her puppet looked amazing. 

In hindsight I realize that she probably had help from her Mom. And I clearly did not. But at the time of course I did not see that. After telling DH this he patted my shoulder sympathetically. Continuing to basically think out loud I said something along the lines about how I think we're (DH having had a similarly messed up childhood) carrying our parent's baggage in addition to our own trying our best to not pass any of it along to our children. All as we worry about how much of it has leaked through the cracks and just how much our children are now stuck with.

So, now what?