The boy scored his first basket.
The girl has a solo.
I sorted the Lego.
We laughed at dinner.
It was so boring and normal and we were happy, except when we weren't, and then we were fine not being okay for a while.
This was a glorious weekend.
Sunday, January 31, 2016
Wednesday, January 20, 2016
What Must Be Done
There is nothing to do than that which must be done. That's one of the truisms of adulthood and on the day that that which must be done is hard, it's a truism that sucks.
Today has to be hard. Today had fillings in it for one of the kids and so I sat in the hallway and cried while a kind man filled a couple of the many holes in that kid's mouth. There was nothing to do but get it done, but the doing was hard - there is no sedation offered mothers (a short-coming of the system I suggest). I'm tired now.
Today has Phase 2 grief in it over the fire trucks. Or is it Phase 97? Not sure, but today is the day after learning the first option, and that means today is sad because the first option sucks. It just does. It wouldn't have mattered too much what that option was - it was destined to suck, and therefore today was destined to suck. There's nothing to do but live with the truth that option A sucks and probably it's going to be a few days or weeks or months before option B and C and D make themselves known, before we know whether or not they suck too. Before we trip across the option that does not suck, that brings life.
On days like today, I am tempted to try to create things to do that do not suck. That are not hard. That don't make me cry.
But another truism of adulthood is that the hard days won't leave you alone. Until you make space for them, they'll just keep tapping on your shoulder, demanding to be borne. They can be delayed, but they can't be avoided.
So today I'm all in on doing what must be done. I'm going to cry a lot and indulge in the bleaks. And in the morning, maybe that which must done will be smile-making, joy-giving. Or maybe it will be plain. Don't know. I'll do it then.
Today has to be hard. Today had fillings in it for one of the kids and so I sat in the hallway and cried while a kind man filled a couple of the many holes in that kid's mouth. There was nothing to do but get it done, but the doing was hard - there is no sedation offered mothers (a short-coming of the system I suggest). I'm tired now.
Today has Phase 2 grief in it over the fire trucks. Or is it Phase 97? Not sure, but today is the day after learning the first option, and that means today is sad because the first option sucks. It just does. It wouldn't have mattered too much what that option was - it was destined to suck, and therefore today was destined to suck. There's nothing to do but live with the truth that option A sucks and probably it's going to be a few days or weeks or months before option B and C and D make themselves known, before we know whether or not they suck too. Before we trip across the option that does not suck, that brings life.
On days like today, I am tempted to try to create things to do that do not suck. That are not hard. That don't make me cry.
But another truism of adulthood is that the hard days won't leave you alone. Until you make space for them, they'll just keep tapping on your shoulder, demanding to be borne. They can be delayed, but they can't be avoided.
So today I'm all in on doing what must be done. I'm going to cry a lot and indulge in the bleaks. And in the morning, maybe that which must done will be smile-making, joy-giving. Or maybe it will be plain. Don't know. I'll do it then.
Friday, January 01, 2016
Chased.
I have decided that I am optimistic about 2016. Despite the first day's repeating of several challenges that I was sure I had decided I was leaving in 2015, I end this first day of the year all kinds of certain that I'll be swimming in a deep ocean of goodness for the next twelve months.
There is one teeny, tiny obstacle to bathing in all this goodness: my fondness for fear. I have long been expert at keeping fear folded in my wallet, ready for any excuse to be pulled out and shown to any and all. When I was 8, it was fear of fire. When I was 10, it was fear of nuclear war. Lately I seem to like my fear of climate change and/or earthquakes quite a bit. I've also collected a fair number of more existential fears: fear that we are not who we think we are; fear that we have failed The One Test That Matters; fear that the stakes are higher than I thought; fear that I misunderstood it all.
Oh fear, what a faithful friend you have been.
However, I am really, really committed to my plans for 2016 so I must be caught. Because of course, I have been chased. Or at least, I'm willing to believe that it is truth-ish that Perfect Love chases out fear, and that I have been outrunning said perfect love for a while now, fuelled as I was by all that fear. And so I'm going to believe that having been chased, I can slow up enough to be caught and let all my fear get chased out.
Obviously, this has been an option for a while. But 2015 taught me that fear served me not at all - the worst things happened, and the anticipatory fear I'd borne didn't make those things any easier to manage. It was so irrelevant. It just didn't matter. Hard things were happening and we were doing them, and doing them actually made them a lot less terrible than fear had told me they would be. Fear is such a fucking liar. Anyway, if fear isn't going to equip me to handle all the terrible that is surely still to come, I think I'd like to just put it down. It has been so heavy.
I'm going to try to throw a bit more hope in my wallet instead, and then just go hunting for the goodness. Good morning day, I'll say. What goodness do you bring? That's what I'll say this year.
I think it's going to be awesome. Getting caught by Perfect Love is probably pretty great.
There is one teeny, tiny obstacle to bathing in all this goodness: my fondness for fear. I have long been expert at keeping fear folded in my wallet, ready for any excuse to be pulled out and shown to any and all. When I was 8, it was fear of fire. When I was 10, it was fear of nuclear war. Lately I seem to like my fear of climate change and/or earthquakes quite a bit. I've also collected a fair number of more existential fears: fear that we are not who we think we are; fear that we have failed The One Test That Matters; fear that the stakes are higher than I thought; fear that I misunderstood it all.
Oh fear, what a faithful friend you have been.
However, I am really, really committed to my plans for 2016 so I must be caught. Because of course, I have been chased. Or at least, I'm willing to believe that it is truth-ish that Perfect Love chases out fear, and that I have been outrunning said perfect love for a while now, fuelled as I was by all that fear. And so I'm going to believe that having been chased, I can slow up enough to be caught and let all my fear get chased out.
Obviously, this has been an option for a while. But 2015 taught me that fear served me not at all - the worst things happened, and the anticipatory fear I'd borne didn't make those things any easier to manage. It was so irrelevant. It just didn't matter. Hard things were happening and we were doing them, and doing them actually made them a lot less terrible than fear had told me they would be. Fear is such a fucking liar. Anyway, if fear isn't going to equip me to handle all the terrible that is surely still to come, I think I'd like to just put it down. It has been so heavy.
I'm going to try to throw a bit more hope in my wallet instead, and then just go hunting for the goodness. Good morning day, I'll say. What goodness do you bring? That's what I'll say this year.
I think it's going to be awesome. Getting caught by Perfect Love is probably pretty great.
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