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<\/a><\/h3>\nI’m sitting here writing this with a baby nursing in my lap.<\/h3>\n
I am no stranger to exposed breasts.<\/p>\n
I am no stranger, either, to the excitement and curiosity of new people and places and of moving, traveling and living life how I choose rather than according to an arbitrary rule book.<\/p>\n
I support equality (and, thus, gay marriage and choosing no marriage or children regardless of mate preference, for that matter).<\/p>\n
I’m, in many ways, a rebel at heart<\/a>.<\/p>\n I’ve not shaved my legs or armpits, dabbled in social taboos and, most generally speaking, don’t mind making noise.<\/a><\/p>\n However, one thing I’ve learned through my experimentation is that making noise for the sole purpose of making it is not a grown-up thing to do. I’ve also learned that part of being good at being a grown-up is to realize that I’ll never quite be grown and to find both the humility as well as the joy within that reality.<\/p>\n I’m sitting here with a baby upon my lap, nibbling at my breast. My husband and daughter are in the other room, folding laundry.<\/p>\n I’ve chosen, obviously, marriage and “two kids” and living in a house and cooking dinner most nights of the week.<\/p>\n I’ve chosen, too, the laundry being stacked in the same piles on the same shelves and the toys and books stored and stashed in nearly the same spots each night.<\/p>\n For example, this chair sits in the same little corner of my kitchen, right next to the oven. This chair was my Nana’s.<\/em><\/p>\n This golden shawl is from my sister.<\/em><\/p>\n This diaper bag was lovingly crafted by an artist friend.<\/em><\/p>\n All of these things were, for a time, anally cared for and protected before becoming familiar and still cared for, but also treated with less controlling caution. Frankly, they are now loved and routinely normal, though still special.<\/p>\n But that’s how life is: routine and normal and wonderful, with bursts of new and snazzy and different. And despite the familiar and known being occasionally taken for granted or having a different kind of sparkle—one that has nicks and snags and wrinkles—it’s precisely this pure joy and to-the-bone-marrow love that make me truly happy and filled with life.<\/p>\n I’ll always choose old jeans, my twenty-year relationship and the daily grind of parenthood over anything else.<\/p>\n I’ll choose the mailbox that mostly contains bills, the yoga practices in the same tiny room in the back hallway of my house, and the sweater that smells just a touch because I’ve worn it three days in a row.<\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n