Date: 2015-06-27
To: Simple Man
Miles today: 0.0

At our wedding, James danced with his mom to Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Simple Man." I remember watching him twirl her on the floor and swaying along myself - it's such a good song, how can you not get into it? It's strange to think that this November will mark seven years since that day. We've packed a ton into those years - my thru hike; James finishing up his PhD; a move to Mississippi; a move back to Athens this past fall when James landed a job at our alma mater; two daughters and then, three months ago, a son; we bought a house, sold it and then bought another; our pack of dogs is up to 5, 6 if you count the stray we've had for the last six weeks - we lost Cash along the way but tried to make up for that loss by exponentially adding to our stock. Life has been amazingly blissful, blessed and complicated. I stay home with the kids which is great in a lot of ways, and excruciating in some other ways. I hold baby Gus (James Augustus in honor of both men in James' family and of Augustus McCrae from Lonesome Dove - we followed our literary theme to the finish), our three month old, now and think about how he's passed the 12 week mark, that if I were a working mom I'd be back at it, away from him all day, and I snuggle him a little closer, grateful for the opportunity to be near him all day. And then I set him down so I can break up the 37th fight of the day between Scarlett and Ada, hand one her my-little-pony back and give the toy stroller to the other and sigh, wondering if I'm wasting away and if any parenting choice I've made that day has been the right one. A lot of times I sincerely doubt everything I've done the past 12 hours. The needs feel infinite, and I find myself staying up to midnight a lot of nights just so I can have a few hours where no one needs anything from me - the silence and stillness are so therapeutic that it's worth the sleep I give up in order to bask in them.Since Gus was born, I've often thought back to when Scarlett was a newborn. I try to mark the changes I've undergone, my growth, my experience, what I've learned. I will never forget holding 3 month old Scarlett and a friend who had a 3 year old at the time saying, "You should really take advantage of her being so little right now - it's so easy to travel. Travel as much as you can now, because in a few years it's gonna get rough." I thought she had straight up lost her mind. I thought she must have forgotten what a baby was like. I should send her an apology now for the incredulous look I gave her then. New parenthood is hard. It is so hard, and traveling with a newborn seems insane. It's a shock to the system and no matter how much other people try to prepare you for it, there's truly no preparation. The love you feel for your baby is so damn powerful that it breaks your heart wide open and pieces you back together, slowly, into a new being. There is no going back to who you once were before you had a child - yes, there has been a birth, but there has also been a death. It's a good death, but it is painful. Like a vampire greeting the dawn for the first time in eons, everything seems so so bright, it seems like too much, danger is everywhere and failure is imminent. And, truth be known, failure is imminent. But the only way to grow is to fail. The only way to learn is to fail. The only way to teach your kids how to get back up is to let them see you fail and then try again. Here on earth, we're all humans, perfection is not required. Third-time parenthood has its own challenges, but they're so much easier to face - rather than a vampire, I feel more like a hung-over-cousin of Mary Poppins. With two small kids in tow, a baby seems simple, uncomplicated, like a treat, even. I feel like I now somewhat understand the looks of nostalgia parents of older kids shoot my direction every time I'm out and about with our little clan of wee ones, swearing under my breath and wishing they would constantly stop tripping me up. Sometimes I'll whisk Gus away to a quiet room, maybe lock the door or barricade it somehow (maybe), and I'll cuddle him and nurse him and we'll smile at each other and I'll breathe in his sweet baby scent. I'll look at his perfect little face, his chubby, round little body completely relaxed across my midsection, his feet poking off the ends of shins that scream to be nibbled and his toes, round like a pokeberry, ready to burst and I know, without even a flicker of a doubt, that this time is so fleeting. That life is fleeting, really. Before I know it, Gus will not be content to just lay across me and smile up at me - he'll be itching to tear something up and drive me bonkers with his shenangians. I may even forget that he ever happily let me squeeze him to my chest as I fought back tears brought on by the knowledge that he will inevitably grow up, that life for him, and for me will never be as simple and as sweet as it is now.Life tends towards complexity. Like my friend told me years ago, traveling with a newborn truly is much, much easier than traveling with a toddler - I wish I had footage of the flight I took to England with almost 2 year old Ada last spring. It was a miracle there wasn't a mutany. Anyway. That almighty and powerful love grows alongside your baby. It gets tested as your baby turns into a toddler and then into a little kid (I can only imagine how simple this toddler phase will feel in 10 years when adolescence and real-world consequences are present.). Your love never diminishes one iota; the opposite, in fact, is true. But the testing is ever present.   Throughout my short life, I've been tested both intentionally and also because that's just how life is. This parenting gig is uniquely eye opening, soul-expanding, treacherous and astoundingly touching in its testing. These little people who we are raising will, God willing, one day move away to start their own independent lives and suffer heartache and joyful experiences and, I'm guessing, will continue to test us. In the testing, there is growth. Such is life.The reason a baby seems so much easier now than she did 4 years ago is because I've learned all things baby - I know what to worry about and what to let go (which, coincidentally, is nearly everything). It's a lot like learning to camp in the rain - that first month on the trail my stuff got wet every time it rained which was, luckily, most days. I remember, though, the first time we camped in a total downpour and the next morning, despite the incessant and deafening rain only hours early, I awoke to a dry tent. I climbed out of my little Hubba, beaming with pride and relayed my accomplishment to my trail buddies. They all cheered with glee and gave me high fives (ok, that part didn't actually happen, but you could picture it, couldn't you?). It took weeks of trial and error, but I had finally done it. A month or two later, I awoke to a tent that had been chewed into by a kindly rodent who then chewed its way into my pack and then, as luck would have it, it chewed its way into my last remnants of food. Yes, I slept with my food in my tent. Rookie mistake (ok, truthfully, it was sheer laziness - hanging a bear rope gets old). Two steps forward, one step back. Growth. But miniscule. The beauty in all this testing and all this growth, all this complication, is the ability to apply what I've learned to each new day. Each day I get to try again, it's all a do-over, but I've got more arrows in my quiver than I did the day before. I get another chance to seek the beauty of simplicity in the ever-expanding complicated. Like Winston Churchill said, "Success is not final, failure is not fatal. It is the courage to continue that counts." Also, not a Winston, but, "Sometimes the best thing you can do is not think, not wonder, not imagine, not obsess. Just breathe, and have faith that everything will work out for the best." My experiences, successes, failures and awakenings on the trail are still very much present in my life - my thru hike molded me in so many ways, and I draw strength from that experience almost daily. But it is not the final word on who I am or who I will be - neither is this new journey called parenthood. They're all small steps in this amazing dance called life, where all that you need is in your soul.*****************************************************************************"Mama told me when I was youngCome sit beside me, my only sonAnd listen closely to what I say.And if you do thisIt will help you some sunny day.Take your time... Don't live too fast,Troubles will come and they will pass.Go find a woman and you'll find love,And don't forget son,There is someone up above.[Chorus:]And be a simple kind of man.Be something you love and understand.Baby, be a simple kind of man.Oh won't you do this for me son,If you can?Forget your lust for the rich man's goldAll that you need is in your soul,And you can do this if you try.All that I want for you my son,Is to be satisfied.[Chorus:]And be a simple kind of man.Be something you love and understand.Baby, be a simple kind of man.Oh won't you do this for me son,If you can?Boy, don't you worry.You'll find yourself.Follow your heart,And nothing else.You can do this,If you try.All that I want for you my son,Is to be satisfied.[Chorus:]And be a simple kind of man.Be something you love and understand.Baby, be a simple kind of man.Oh won't you do this for me son,If you can?Baby, be a simple, be a simple manOh, be something you love and understandBaby, be a simple kind of man"