LESSONS FOR TODAY . . .

1. I am not a man. Adrenaline kept me going this evening, helping Soybean and her family move into their new home. But now that I'm sitting down and all my muscles are settling creakily and painfully back into their rightful places, I'm realizing that I probably should not have spent the whole time being the only one to climb into the moving truck to move all the boxes out to the front. I was bending at the knees and using my hips for leverage and all that. And the packing was so wisely done that most of the boxes were completely manageable. But the bottom line is, there were probably about 70-80 boxes. Some of them were heavy. And there was furniture too. Including a particularly stubborn and unwieldy office chair with a swivel bottom that kept swiveling. I should have let someone else -- a man, stronger and bigger than I, and with more capable lifting muscles -- climb into the truck. It's just that the inside of the truck looked so fun, and the guys looked like they were having a blast walking up and down the stairs carrying what I gave them ...

2. I cannot and should not do it all. Even if I can, even if I know how, even if I think (or even know) that I can do it better than anyone else, sometimes, I should just sit down, shut up and enjoy the ride, letting someone else drive for once. And underlying it all, I should take pride in the things in me that are worth taking pride in, and not let these things grow into unhealthy hubris and paralyzing sensitivity. Besides, I'm gettin' on in years; I should revel in letting others do the work!

3. Each baby smells different. I spent some time today with three babies under the age of 1. They all smell different! I thought there was only one 'baby smell.' Now, I know there are at least three. I don't know what creates the 'baby smell' (and I bet if I knew, I'd be grossed out, for I suspect it has something to do with body odor, breast milk, or some weird baby-dry-skin condition).

4. I am not a tall woman. This is a lesson I re-learn about twice a year. Sometimes, it's when I look at a group photograph and I see that I'm the shortest one in the picture. Other times, it's when I'm standing next to someone taller than I, and when I turn to look at them, I see that their eyes don't line up with mine. But sometimes, like today, it's when I try on an item of clothing and realize it just doesn't hang right: the tunic top looks like a dress; the shirt looks like a tunic; the mini-skirt appears to be tea-length; and the hip seams on the pants curve around my thighs.