The Circle Game

Joni Mitchell wrote a lot of great songs about life and love. One of my favorites was The Circle Game with lyrics extolling the joys and frustrations of living on Planet Earth for seventy or eighty years. If you're younger than I am (and who isn't?) you might not know (or in my case remember) the words:  And the seasons, they go round and round. And the painted ponies go up and down. We're captive on a carousel of time. We can't return, we can only look behind from where we came. And go round and round and round in the circle game. (Just writing those words makes me want to go dig out my copy of Ladies of the Canyon.)

I was thinking of that song yesterday when I helped host a baby shower for one of my closest friend's daughter. She (and the other two hostesses) have been three of God's greatest blessings in my life for more than thirty years. As I watched her daughter gleefully open all the gifts that would soon clothe/educate/amuse her little one, I couldn't help thinking about how quickly the time had gone. Had it really been twenty-something years since my friends and I were the ones waddling around in maternity cloths? Had it truly been more than two decades since I was putting the finishing touches on the cake for my friend's baby shower instead of the cupcakes for this one? Could that really be my own daughter sitting on the floor tending to her six-month old son?

I know. I know. Time marches on. Time waits for no (wo)man. Everyone tells you how fast it all goes by (even if they don't say it quite as eloquently as Ms. Mitchell) but nothing really prepares you for it. And even though I made sure to add some pearls of wisdom about savoring every moment of her parenthood journey in my message to the mommy-to-be, I know it won't do much good.

She won't really appreciate it until she's the one watching her own daughter open up those presents.

Goings and Comings

Having a baby shower for your firstborn on the same weekend your youngest moves halfway across the country makes for some interesting emotional moments. From 5:00 a.m. on Saturday, standing on the driveway tearfully waving goodbye to collapsing on the couch and sleeping in my party dress on Sunday, the highs and lows I experienced over the past two days would rival anything Space Mountain could ever throw at me.

Change and I have never been the best of friends. I'm all for the status quo if I have any kind of say in the matter. I know that's not a recipe for growth but if you ask me, growth is very overrated. And you can call me crazy but I'm also not particularly fond of events that leave me feeling as if my heart is being ripped out of my chest. Having never sent either of my kids off to a college that was more than a couple of hours away, it was inevitable that a few tears were going to be shed as I watched the Denver-bound moving truck fill up with my son's belongings; as I watched my parents envelop him in a bear hug and warn him to stay away from "that marijuana crap"; as I watched his pregnant sister give him an extra embrace, knowing that he would miss the birth of her first child.

But, after all the tears, I knew there was work to be done. There was a shower to be thrown; a welcoming party for the newest member of our family. There were cupcakes to decorate and balloons to be hung. I was grateful for the diversion.

Sunday afternoon, a roomful of friends and relatives gathered to abundantly bless our daughter and her husband with love and everything our new grandson could possibly need. There was so much joy watching my daughter revel in the anticipation of becoming a mother that, for a moment, I could only remember how wonderful it is to be a parent. Because, no matter how many times I've felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest, I've been lucky enough to be a part of creating two amazing people that have brought me more happiness than I could have ever imagined. They were the ones who made my dreams come true.

Now it's their turn.

To Everything . . .

This past weekend I helped host a baby shower for my niece. Thirty-five of her nearest and dearest had accepted the invite to make the trek to my house to drink punch, play a couple of harmless games and oooh and aaah at appropriate intervals. Of course, they had no idea when they checked that "yes" box on the invite, that they were going to have to travel through monsoon-like conditions that included numerous tornado sightings but, happily, that didn't deter many of them. The weather may have been bad enough for a bunch of tough-guy football players to take a seat for a couple of hours but women on their way to a baby shower for someone as special as my niece? Not a chance.

As usual, my family was running behind when the first guests arrived. No problem. We hastily enlisted our new labor force and everyone pitched in to finish the last minute decorations and food preparation before the guest of honor arrived. Luckily, her baby bump prevented her from seeing my still unwashed kitchen floor as she pronounced the surroundings "beautiful" and "perfect".

After munching on an assortment of goodies (including mini-wieners and meatballs - don't blame me, it was her mom's idea to follow that "it's a boy" theme to its logical culinary conclusion), it was on to the gifts. And that's when I started getting a little misty. As she unwrapped colorful bouncy chairs and impossibly tiny booties, I remembered. I remembered the waiting; the anxiety; the hopefulness. I remembered the intense anticipation that washed over me as I prepared to be a first-time mom. Maybe it was a million years ago but I could feel everything she was feeling as if it were yesterday.

But it wasn't. My daughter is getting married in a couple of weeks and my son is planning a cross-country move sometime next year. I'm about to wrap up Act One of my mothering career and someone I love's adventure is just beginning.

Turn. Turn. Turn.