Sonata

As my roller covered the last of the minty green paint I could not help but recall when I had first chosen the color for Isabelle's baby room. I was so thrilled to be planning her room ... to be making it "just so." It was bright and cheerful, and hopeful and happy, exactly how I felt... exactly what I hoped Isabelle would feel in her room. Now, here I was years later saying good-bye to it with a much more subdued shade, something called "earthy cane." Isabelle's baby room was becoming our office, and we were moving Isabelle into the larger room next door to accommodate the full bed she was getting moved into .... no more toddler bed for the big girl. Frankly, she was long overdue to be out of it and we had simply put it off in the hopes that perhaps we would sell the house before necessitating switching rooms. No such luck.

So, here I was painting over the first of many stages. I would be lying to say I did not feel a slight twinge at the thought of her growing up and leaving behind that baby room. Seeing Isabelle that first evening tucked into her "big bed," so proud of all her space and multiple pillows with room for Mindy, our cat to join her if she wanted, I realized how quickly time goes. I glanced around the space and suddenly could envision it a few more years down the road with posters on the walls, school books scattered on the floor, nail polish bottles on the dresser, and clothes draped over the foot board of the bed. What color would the walls be then?

This weekend I will paint Isabelle's new bedroom the color of her choice, a robin's egg's blue. A lovely, calm, serene color that makes you dream of summer days and sail boats on a lazy lake. The store called the color, in a rather grand fashion, "sonata." However, I kind of like the name as a sonata can be a rather complicated musical composition in that it contains three to four independent movements that vary in key, mood, and tempo .... much like my beautiful daughter herself. Each movement is like a stage, separate and yet connected in theme to the whole. Yes, the color is perfect, very Isabelle. I got to pick the first time around but from here on out it will be Isabelle's choice every time we redo her room. After all, this is her life to live, her musical composition to write, her sonata.

My Relationship with Chicken Little

It happens sometimes. Inevitably it will come in the night as I lie in the dark wrapped in my blankets, cocooned in the shadows of my bedroom, listening to the deep, even breaths of my husband next to me, the rare car going by on the road outside, or the familiar creaks of my house. Its, the WORRY. And it doesn't have to be any particular, specific worry, mind you. It can be any of a host of them.... from money, to health, to relationships, to the all too familiar worry of child-raising. Even worry about some of my own goals that I would still like to achieve. Goals, that as a mother, you all too often set aside for a time, to make room for your families more pressing needs.


The worry will creep its way in, form a nice solid lump in my throat and leave me wide awake for a few hours before my exhausted mind is finally able to shake it off enough to drift into some semblance of a rest. And why? By all accounts, I lead a perfectly blessed life with much to be thankful for, and I closed out 2009 thinking essentially that. And perhaps that is precisely why in the small hours of the night I get these occasional worry attacks ..... because I am waiting for the "bottom to fall out." I look around at what some families, some people go through and frankly, I harbor almost a sense of guilt for our stability and security. Ultimately our biggest worry always comes down to a loved one being harmed or getting sick, doesn't it? And it takes on a whole new level as a parent.... the worry could swallow you whole if you let it. It makes me pray all the harder for the continued health and happiness of those I love as if I might have a time limit on my luck. Ridiculous, I know, but I come from a long line of worriers, and at times I think I could raise it to an art form.

Of course, common sense (usually) prevails, and I recognize my worry won't really get me anywhere (other then to drive me a little crazy). Plus, walking through life like your own personal version of "Chicken Little" waiting for the sky to fall is no way to live either. So, I do my best to stifle that worry gene of mine, swallow my "Chicken Little" moments and remember that with every new year comes new possibilities for relationships, goals, and the myriad of other tasks we all set for ourselves. So, lets see what 2010 brings.