2020 has been horrific. I mean, it started off ok, but then…, well, do I have to say it? So I promised the good, the bad, and the ugly, but it may have been a false promise. Haven’t we had enough ugly? I could go on and on about Congress and $600 stimulus checks, but I’m feeling something else.
I’m a big proponent of the whole when life throws you lemons thing, even when I just want to throw lemons back, like really hard. So 2020, that bitch of a year! It was horrendous, but there were blessings. Like, if you think about it, what could you do when you were locked down besides drink and send texts to your poor romantic choices. Yeah, I did that, but I also had time, a lot of friggin time, to really think about life. Yeah, I’m going there.
So early on in this crap I was eating healthy, riding my bike, doing all kinds of healthy stuff. Next thing I know I was eating a bunch of shit, drinking beer, as in one of the worst things to drink, not because of taste, but because of the inevitable beer belly, and, well, I was fortunate enough to live on a beach where I could sit on a raft all day and drink that awful beer, and now its winter and, 17 1/2 pounds later, I’m feeling some of my 2020 choices. And then I thought about my choices and I said f*&k it! Well, in real life I said the actual word with no asterisks or anything. But, my point is that I hate my belly. I hate not having my eyelashes. I hate my grays. I sort of am feeling my wrinkles because they show me that I have the privilege of getting older (not that I’m not going to run for Botox or a plastic surgeon once all this shit ends), but bottom line is that I had time to think. I had time to be grateful.
It made me reflect, restock, you know, all that BS that we read about, but it’s true. Last Christmas, for the first time in years, I had all three of my kids with me. It was glorious, even if my sons were beating the crap out of each other. But I loved it. I loved every second of having my kids all in one place. They’re older now. God, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but they’re adults. When did that happen? And how old does that make me?
Old and a beer belly? Do I put that on Bumble?!!!
I’m pretty sure that I’ve digressed. Yeah. I have. But. Hmm. So, what is my point here?
I couldn’t sleep tonight, not really abnormal for this awful year. I opened a photo album and that was it. My kids. Not just my kids, but ALL of my kids. The f*&king meaning of life! How do I do this and give justice to them and how much I love them, all of them?
Not in order of importance, but my kids, the ones I work with. They have taught me things I couldn’t have imagined needing to learn. I have no words to ever express what they mean to me, the things they have taught me, or the gratitude I have for the way they, and their families, have taken me into their lives, their families. They taught me how to curse in Spanish, how to love baseball, how to dance, even if I’m a white girl, so much, so freakin much!
Then, my kids, my actual kids. I sit here tonight listening to Justin Bieber, remembering my daughter’s Bieber crush and getting her tickets to see him. I remember taking my son to see Eric Clapton, yes, ERIC CLAPTON, GOD, and then my other son, and how he was always too cool for me, but how I caught up and offered to get a VIP table to see A Boogie on New Year’s Eve. He turned me down. Yeah, he couldn’t handle his mommy being that with it!
Bottom line though, was life flies, like it really flies. My kids are grown. I don’t know how that happened. I don’t know where the time goes. But tonight, I would have given anything for one night with my kids when they were little. I would have given anything for one night of them asking me for another story, for another kiss, another glass of water. I remember needing them to go to bed. I remember looking at crushed Cheerios and Legos all over (God, how those hurt when you step on them barefoot), and all of the reasons, as moms, we wish the time away. Now I’m wishing for it back, even for one day. I’d let them stay up. I’d read another story. I’d give the tightest hugs and a million kisses. I’d let them eat in bed and have as much water as they wanted. And I’d tell them I love them. I told them, but I’d tell them again. And again. A million times again.
I hate 2020. I hate my 17 1/2 extra pounds. I hate so much. But I love the way it forced me to recognize what is important. I’m carrying extra weight that some will never have the chance to carry. I won’t have all of my kids for Christmas, but I have them, I will always have them. I am blessed. I am beyond blessed. One day 2020 will be a distant memory, but I will never forget the way that it taught me to be grateful for all of the things that I have.