buy clomid in australia Last week, I celebrated a birthday. In the spirit of my new self, one that is more attentive to my own needs as opposed to giving everything I have to child and job and then collapsing into a little pile of spent-ness at night only to get up and do it again the next day, I decided on a day at the Spa with a friend. The plan didn’t quite work out as I was only able to get three hours off work – but I did spend those three hours at the Spa thinking only about me. I will call this a phenomenal win.
I had planned for both my friend and I to get pedicures. This is a huge splurge for me as I normally don’t even consider painted nails, but the idea of someone rubbing my feet (and not having to repay the favor) won me over. My friend, however, had other plans – something about ozone and hair. I have no idea what she did, but her hair did look fabulous.
As I settled down for the pedicure, I realized that I was in a completely quiet room. No music. No chatter. No noise. Sensing my need for silence, the woman scrubbing and working away didn’t make a peep until 45 minutes in when she barely whispered, “What color?” The pedicure was nice. The color, fun. The silence, amazing!
You see, my daughter (3-years-old in June) has reached a new developmental stage: she sings. She sings and composes. She allows every thought in her head to spill out in song, often through a microphone given to her for her last birthday, often as loud as humanly possible, often on repeat. I love the insights I get. For example, I can now tell you the many ways she classifies her poop and the names of every person she has ever met. I can also tell you that she is deeply, deeply concerned that I am not listening to her songs.
I am. I do. I love them. I truly do. But, they only end when she sleeps. So, for one hour on my birthday, I basked in glorious silence. When I got home, I showed her my toes. She smiled and looked at me expectantly. “I would love to hear you sing about them, sweetheart”. And so, she did. Twice.
FEATURE PHOTO CREDIT: CLARE MASSON
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In the past, when whatever noisy and repetitive activity my kids engaged in bugged me, I would grit my teeth and think, “Someday I’ll miss this.” These days I find it more of a relief to express the truth: “This is driving me crazy!” Somehow expressing the truth creates a little more space for tolerance of the . . . um . . . “aggravating cuteness” shall we call it?
Palpable, your appreciation of the silence. Thanks for reminding me to notice silence when it arrives in my day. And happy birthday!
The truth is that most moments, I really do love it. Then, there are the moments, were I need to forgive myself and seek silence so that I can return to loving being in the moment again.
Love the toe nail color! And I loved reading this in my own silence. So divine.
Happy Birthday, Clare. Wishing you many more days of you-time in the midst of your life set to song.
This makes me want to get a massage. I need some pampering! (Not the Pampers kind)