These happy golden years.

Too many kisses. That was my problem. It's just her face. It happens to be so incredibly enticing to me. It lures me in and draws me near and beckons me to stop whatever Important Task I am Doing for a nuzzle. Those cheeks, they are soft. Perfectly smootchable. Though barely, she's still young enough to smell yummy too. Like fresh strawberries and pink bubble gum and angel wings and fruity hair detangler, not that she cares at all for a comb.  

So when she got a cold, it was my destiny to join her in The Sick Abyss. Only somehow, my advanced age and increased maturity yielded a much more thorough ravaging of this tired body.  

But you know what I did? I took really hot bath with lots of essential oils, the show Reign on my iPad and headphones on my head. In my twice-a-year-tub because it's an occurrence usually reserved exclusively for Mother's Day and my birthday. And I did it twice, two days in a row, surpassing my annual quota before January has even properly lifted off the ground. Then I napped for two hours. Because my children are no longer babies and I can nap if I need to. Strangely enough, I feel much better. 

While I was in the tub a thought occurred to me. I really should do this more often. It's true what they say, life is short. I used to agree when they said the days are long but the years are short, but now I know that's all really a bunch of hogwash. What do they know, anyway? They've never been a trustworthy source of valuable information. It's all short. The days and the years and the life and all of it. So short. Baths are great. My new years resolution is to take more of them. 

While I'm at it, I'm going to paint that cherubic child's toenails too. She's always asking me to and off I go here and there and yon, busy, busy, busy. Puttering around doing this and that, saying "Yes, honey! I'll polish them TOMORROW! See? I put the bottle on my dresser to remind me." But she and I both realize one tomorrow will tumble into another and a week and a month will pass and the purple polish will rest, unopened, only moved to dust under it because we all know cleaning the house takes precedence over pedicures on tiny toes.

Then, I'm going to focus on a single thing at a time. Because multitasking is truly overrated and I wind up feeling like I've accomplished neither thing well. I'm going to remember to move my eyes toward theirs when they talk so they don't have to look at the side of my face and hear my mindless, "mmmhmm" quite so much. Their words fill our home and sometimes it seems like just too many for me to assimilate but the fact that they care to speak to me is a gift of grace beyond what I can fathom. I really do want to listen. Closely. So I can hear their hearts come through in their voices and know them well. Baby, you are important to me. 

Instead of engaging in life with more rigor, I'd like to focus on less. Less perfection seeking, less ideal chasing, less disappointment in expectation, less keeping up with those deeply insatiable Joneses. More relaxation, more fun, more laughter, more games, more smiling with my eyes, more nail polish and idle and deep and meaningful and spontaneous face to face conversation, more openness to whatever the day presents. More baths, if the mood strikes. More tea and more chocolate without guilt. More appreciation for the mountain views outside and the messy views inside, evidence that life abounds here. More ten second hugs and audible I love yous. More forgiving. More flexibility and freedom to prioritize engaging in this precious, fleeting moment in time we share together. My beloveds and I under one sweet roof.  

More gratitude for these happy golden years.