What A Vacation is Supposed to Do...

As you are all painfully aware, I have anxiety issues that I have been working on.

Sometimes my progress (which hey, you all know God is a part of... therefore) surprises me because I'm not specifically aware of trying to change.

Due to anxiety (and the fact that I've got a bit of hermit in me) there have been very very very very... very few times that I have not been chomping at the bit to get home from any sort of vacation. I like being home. I do love you all that I have been on vacation with... but my mind was stuck on getting home to the cats (do they have enough food, did the litter last, have they made a mess), or getting the baby/kid home (to our own stuff, our own routine, our own breakable things), or even getting home to the kid (are the caretakers okay, did everyone sleep, are they dying for me to get home), or maybe just the day to day (theres so much laundry, I left the dishes on the counter, I should have been sanding walls). To be honest, there is even an anxiety to get out simply because its inevitable so I want to get it over with (sidenote: I think my unconscious goal in life is to have absolutely nothing on my "to do" list which is both ridiculous, meaningless, and not really what I want). I never have that feeling of, "Oh I wish we could stay on vacation forever." In fact, I would say that I long for home the way most people long for vacation.

This weekend was a little different.

There was this moment when Abby came to give me a hug (Because I'd been on a ten minute errand) and smiled up at me and it was just like this shining simply beautiful bonded moment. The sort that don't come as often as she takes all these subtle and profound steps away from dependency. The sort I'd been mourning over since having another baby. It was just really like a breath of fresh adoration on both sides. Granted, it may have been something to do with her absolute joy with being with TWO kids all weekend (it's been a while since we've had an outing with kids), but her happiness - her contentment and love just rose up at just the right moment that I could enjoy it and respond with the same absolute love and focus.

And to just round out the mini-miracles, as Steve was cuddling Jack to bed last night he told me there had been a father/son moment with Jack as well. They were hanging on the couch together and Steve was just talking sports and Jack was just babbling back. I was there for the tail end of it - as it was a rather bad time to be having a mini-miracle as we were trying to gear up and leave. It must have lasted ten minutes (eternity for a three month old). And Steve just felt that connection - that "my son" connection.

Sigh, I love being older. I love having a bit more wisdom, a bit more communication, a bit more everything. I may be singing a different tune in twenty years but for now I can honestly say I LIKE being in my thirties. I think (no one else has to agree) that I look better now in general beauty wise than I did in my twenties because I like the more mature face, and more importantly, I like my sort of beauty like I didn't quite accept back then.

Total happiness with myself, my health, my goals and creativity - it's all out there a few steps a head of me and I'm happy where I am and excited with where I'm going. I am really surprised what with the "Friends" cast ahead of me and still looking pretty impressive that people my age are unhappy about aging. The sort of Hollywood I have on my radar doesn't worship the teeny bopper icon, the sort of Hollywood I pay any attention to is the Hollywood my age... and besides being ridiculously skinny, I like what I see.

I like my life, my family, my kids and who I'm married to (Steve and I didn't spend any particular time as a couple this weekend - but there was something team building about it, something underlying that made me feel closer to him than ever. I personally think the interesting thing about Steve and I is that we both feel guilty asking for what we want/need/whim and yet we are both selfish enough not to repress. It's just taken 8 and a half years to get to a good balance, to get to a place where we can ask, take, accept, and give. I'm being cheesy again).

Pretty cool gig.

I don't care that I can't spell or give directions. I don't care that I detest math or trying to organize numbers in ANY way - any apology in my voice when you find one of these failings out firsthand is for the inconvenience of my failings, not because I regret them all that much.

POINT being, if I keep going away from anxiety towards peace and peace affords these moments of mini-miracles, then that's pretty motivating.