Today Hen had his first haircut. It was long past time to cut off that ludicrous wispy mullet at the back. His bed hair looked like a back-combed tumbleweed, but I still dragged my feet when it came to cutting it off. I wasn’t ready at all to see a boy’s face on those skinny shoulders. He looks smart, serious and old, so old, and it hurts in a funny way I can’t put my finger on.
Today Tim cycled 37 miles for the heck of it. He does that, sometimes. I enquired afterwards how much he weighed (surely he must leave behind ten gallons of sweat) and he shrugged and said ‘I don’t exercise to lose weight, now’. I thought, hmm, there’s something worth thinking about. Also, there are other reasons?
I ache. Oh, I ache all over like I never did before. After a couple of miles all the muscles and ligaments in my back and legs start to screech like a rusty car. I think it’s pretty wimpy, considering I’m not even in my third trimester, it didn’t happen the first time, and I’m not yet half as heavy as I’m going to be. I know this because I check a pregnancy weight gain calendar more often than I should. I am impatient with the changes in my body – glaring at elongated thighs and stretched skin in the mirror – and spend too much time wishing them over and done with.
It is Easter weekend. Time to consider what else – apart from a baby’s mullet – I might be hanging on to when it’s best to let go. Time to think about renewal, and trying again, and failing again, but failing better. Time to remember that there is grace everywhere, including in myself; and that there is always room to treat people better, and that also includes myself.
Have a wonderful long weekend! Be kind to yourself. Wishing you chocolate and much happiness.