Six and Some

Last Saturday, our friends invited us to their St. Patrick's Day block party. Along with the three hundred or so people in attendance, there were Irish Dancers, a fire truck, a DJ, an array of options for outdoor play, and lots of beer. It was a lot of fun.

While the kids seemed to have had a good time, the next morning Bobby said something unexpected to me.

I asked him, 'Did you have fun at the party yesterday?'

His response, 'No.'

I asked him to elaborate, 'What? Why?'

'It was too big. And I felt too little.'

It made too much sense. Eerily so. And I wondered how often my kids felt like that. Too little in a too big world. Poor guy.

The frame he provided also made Mary's perpetual birthday countdown make a little more sense.

Since Christmas, Mary has been anxiously awaiting her birthday. The anticipation likely started before that, but it was after Christmas when it became more pronounced. What started as months, became days as we entered March. And everyone from her friends, the cashiers at the grocery store, Debbie the donut lady, the mailman, sales ladies in town, attendants at the gym, waitresses at restaurants, and of course her family knew where she was in the count. Days, hours, minutes, and finally she would be six. She could hardly sleep leading up to it.

The big day came, and the girl was grinning ear to ear from morning till night. As she walked down the stairs to get a hug from me. As I sent her off to school. As Peter and I visited her classroom and her classmates sang Happy Birthday to her in three languages (English, Polish and Spanish!) She was beaming as she came home from school and Eva gave her a special collection of beauty products. And when we took her out to her favorite dinner, she loved having all of Mom and Dad's attention. It was a day, all day, that she felt really big and really important, and I could see how special that was for her.

Sure, it was about the cake and candles and presents, but more than that, I think kids cling to their birthdays because on that day, the world kind of bends down to their level. It sees eye to eye with them. It proclaims them ruler for the day. And it's what they need to help make sense of the too big world they inhabit.


Mary, you are six. And while I know that may seem little at times, in so many ways you are bigger than big.

In your smarts. You are reading, writing beautifully, and can do mathematics like a second or third grader.

In your sass. I'm actually a little nervous for how that attitude might evolve some day.

In your sophistication. Yes, she was the one who chose Nabuki for her birthday dinner.

In your sense of humor. Your laugh as you crinkle up your nose warms so many hearts.

In your sisterly ways. Despite the persistent fights with Bobby, you care so much about your little brother and little sister. And they both look up to you.

In your style. Over the past three or four months, it has evolved from party dresses to casual cool and you now have a way of putting together an outfit that I might call daring, but that you pull off all too well.

In your sweetness. You are kind, caring, and loving toward all. Always stay so sweet.

Little, no big, six year old, I love you.


Mommy / Lo


  

On Top of the Hill

I was nine years old when my Mom and Dad turned 40. I remember making a homemade sign using old school computer paper hung together by its perforations. It said something as eloquent as, 'You're Over the Hill.' It was the 90s and life was a little more abrasive.

In comparison, in this softer day and age, my kids made Peter cards that said, 'I love you,' I sent my sister a card that didn't mention the big #40, and my brother in law received a card that said Happy 29th Birthday again.

While I'm not quite there yet, I'm trying to reconcile the worry around age 40.

Perhaps it's the fact that when I was growing up, 40 seemed like the quintessential parent age. At that juncture, you had a little gray in your hair, you were wise, all knowing, staid, tried, and true. Good old, Mom and Dad. 

And perhaps, it's because for a lifetime, 40 seemed forever away. A number I couldn't possibly reach. But with each year I creep closer, I wonder if the definition assigned to 40 is right.

As I look to loved ones around me, who have all celebrated a 40th birthday in the past three months, I am finding new dimensions to this age. Husband and wife, co-parent, careers, a little gray - sure. Staid, tried, true - definitely not.

Last weekend, I celebrated 40 with my good friend Dan and Peter in Aspen. It was Dan's awesome idea - we just signed up to participate immediately. From what I witnessed, 40 looked amazing.

To them it meant being happily married and standing with that person at the summit of a mountain. Not a step over it.  

It meant cute kids ... and parents who are willing to fly in for the weekend to watch them. 

It meant enough cash flow to take a long weekend in Aspen. 

But at the same time, no where near the cash flow of the botoxed bunnies in Moncler coats skiing next to us.

40 meant you could sneak in to the party without getting carded. 

And that you knew how to patiently wait for lunch.

40 meant you could discern really great champagne, but also release your inhibitions and start spraying it everywhere. (At 37, I was still too nervous and ended up running out of the party.) 

40 also affords you years of experience skiing, so after having too many bottles of champagne and buckets of Bud Lite, you can still make it down the mountain at the end of the Cloud Nine party.  

40 meant an accumulation of friends from all stages of life who not only love you, but love celebrating with you.

40 meant the wisdom to know that speed kills and that skiing with Kerry will make you live forever.

40 meant summiting. Literally. At least for Dan and about four others in our group ... and then it meant skiing down the steepest in bound run in the Colorado.

40 meant you could start planning the next party in New York City ... and then the next one after that in Martha's Vineyard.

Because one of the things I've realized when you get in the range of 40, is that life is too short, I need more time with my hubby, and the best part of work is the vacations it affords.

Happy 40th to Erin, Peter, Dan and Joe - four people who are on top of the mountains ...
... singing for all the world to hear
... trying to get me to move closer to them
... photographing the views
... and riding the powder with ease all the way down to the Apres Ski destination of the day. 

Lo.