Ça n’est pas facile à dire, mais ce qui est certain est que mes enfants ont passé la limite il y a un petit bail.
Auteur : cassandreriviere
Chanter Bohemian Rhapsody
C’est comme la sauce soja : y’a un truc qui fait que quand tu as commencé, impossible de s’arrêter.
Dance with your children
No seduction intended, it’s pure joy, a pure celebration of life
De l’importance des cérémonies
Des remises de diplôme aux enterrements
Let’s be honest about our eco-friendly life
It sucks. Plane-free holidays aren’t as diverse and thrilling, a vegetarian diet isn’t as tasty, chemical-free deodorants never work as well as the old ones, organic shampoo doesn’t make nice foam and doesn’t smell as good… the list is endless. RIP my former, careless, scented, beautiful life.
Disheartened
In French when you are découragé it means you lose your courage, in English you lose your heart. How much worse is that ?
Aging is hard on the rebellious
My mom was never very good at acceptance. She would always start by saying no. Getting old, however, is not something you can refuse forever. And in old age, the peaceful, submissive, fatalistic kind of women (and men, but mostly women) fare much better than the rebellious kind. She was never good at accepting her defeats, and she sees aging as a defeat. Does it have to be so? Can’t you see it as a process, with some physical limitations, but also some improvements ? Moral betterment maybe ? Working on what to transmit, and transmitting it ?
Bleak
« Bleak » has never been a more appropriate word than now. Bleak prospects, the future looks bleak… I love that word, it carries its very bleakness in its short, dull, cold and uninspiring sound. Somewhat like « decay », another of my favorite words, on the dark side.
Solace
Assuage vicarious perfunctorily…
Old age is hard on the rebellious. Accepting your limitations, feeling your own body letting you down.
Just stop talking, please, just stop.
They fall asleep oh so quietly
Every night, it takes me a whole hour to put my children to bed, event 90 minutes on some days, from the moment when I say « ok, let(s go brush our teeth » to the moment I return to the living room. Sometimes I feel it’s very long and I could be doing many other things, but the truth is that I love those moments.
My children are 2.5 and 5. We read a story or two in my bed, and then they fall asleep there, with me. Their dad reads the stories with us but leaves shortly afterwards. As for me, staying with them as they go from jumping little frogs to wiggling worms to cuddling kittens, in the dark, just enjoying their presence and physical closeness is something I love, even if it’s long, some days very long.
But being there when they whisper incomprehensible stories to themselves or make their doudous dance, climb on my belly, try to sleep there, go back down on the mattress, and finally stop moving, little by little. I try to notice the very moment when their breathing slows down and becomes that of a sleeping child. And they fall asleep oh so quietly. Just being there fills me with peace.
Sometimes I fall asleep myself and dream of a big enough bed for the four of us, of a room that would just be a huge bed like this one.