“Nana, you birthed six children in nine years: any advice you’ve tucked away over the decades that you found to be extra helpful?” I asked, well-meaning, wide-eyed, pregnant with my first at age 27, full-on in information-seeking mode. She thought for a minute, lips pressed together, gazing off, then the light bulb visibly going off overhead, she put her finger up and said, “You know what, Katie? Peaks and valleys. Peaks and valleys.” She went on to explain that the good stuff doesn’t last forever, but hey, neither does the bad stuff. I nodded. Appreciative. But…at that time I was sort of looking for that *one* top-secret age-old trick for making babies sleep through the night. Like, immediately. Maybe “How to Swaddle a Baby Perfectly.” Or “The Best Way To Raise Kind, Independent Humans.” That would have been a good one. It was helpful, certainly, but I’ve only really come to appreciate that sage advice as I’ve gotten older, had more babies and more on my plate, and seen more things happen in life…both beautiful and awful. As our little world gets busier and time keeps slipping through my fingers, I try to remember that dear nugget of wisdom and I share it with my peers all the time. To be sure, there are crazy crapola days…weeks….months to be had in life. Man. For sure. The sleepless nights. Tantrums. Teething. Oh, Lord, every kid I always forgot how bad the teething was. Bickering with your spouse. Feeling distant from a friend. Needing more support at home than you have. Health issues, be it your own or, sometimes perhaps worse, watching helplessly as things happen to your dearests.
But it always ends.
The sun always shines again. Relationships get mended. Extra hands appear. The teeth come in. Sleep returns.
Same thing on the flip side: all the glorious dancing in the dark laughter-laden evenings that never end, golden hour at the beach, babies being born, heart-thumping, soul-affirming, shared seconds of splendor….that all ends too. It can’t stay forever. Ever. No matter how much you will it to.
This Labor Day weekend at the Jersey Shore was cool, wet, and rainy, and on Saturday (in the midst of the worst of it), I went for a run on the beach. Something I’ve always loved to do (partly because I like feeling a little badass and partly because running in the rain just makes me feel so *alive*). It’s been a long time since I’ve gone out to run in foul weather because: babies. Strollers. Laziness. I don’t know. But. I went. Alone. And it was glorious. The beach was nearly empty, save a few other hearty dudes who were also kicking up sand in their own little worlds, and one ironically shirtless lifeguard in a stand who, when I remarked what a beautiful time it was at the beach, gesturing to the ocean and sky as I ran by, he shrugged and said “eh, it’s a little cold.” Serves me right for trying to share my special moment with a 17 year old boy.?. Also, please put on a sweatshirt, honey, and warm up. Anyway. The menacing storm clouds and driving rain and whipping winds were life-giving. The solitude from our cooped-up captive children was wildly welcomed. It was me and the sea gulls. It was luxurious.
And it ended. The rain, sure, but the peace and quiet too. Also the crummy missed-beach day for the kids. History.
I went for a run, also, on Sunday. Blue skies on the horizon, rays of sunshine peeking through heavy clouds overhead. It was morning and people were beginning to make their way onto the beach. Parents setting up umbrellas. Kids stripping down and racing into the ocean. A mom on a blanket with an infant waiting for her husband to take a picture of their moment (which, based on her face, was probably being done the wrong way…this is *the stuff* guys ?). But looking west, there were dark clouds blowing in and by the end of the run, the blue sky was obscured by clouds, people were putting sweatshirts on and fewer people were in the water.
The blue skies are always there. But the clouds and the weather blow in and blow out. Sometimes that looks like wispy puffy clouds lazily stretching across the rich blue sky. Sometimes it’s devastatingly severe, like what we’ve seen in Houston post-Hurricane Harvey. Absolutely crushing and heart-breaking and scary and painful. Horrific and powerful. But there’s also slivers of beauty in the faces of all the people who are coming together now across the country to help pick up the pieces. It’s bringing so many of us together as we send down money and diapers and clothes. Pizzerias delivering pizzas by the boatful. Furniture stores opening their beds and couches to displaced families to rest their heads. Humans helping other humans. Pulling one another up from our shared deep valley to a new shared peak.
And that’s just it. Find your people. Hang on tight. For us all there are moments of yay and moments of blah, but I try my best to appreciate them just the same because they do eventually…. All. Just. Go. Cling to those closest to you when you’re in the valleys and never cease to appreciate the journey to your own new peak. Ever-grateful for your words of wisdom, Nana. Please keep ’em coming. ❤️
Beautifully done….?
Beautiful post. Salt water cures everything…sweat, tears, the ocean, or well calculated IV fluid. ?
LOL!!! Girrrrrrl aint that the truth!!! Love you so much!!!