We’re the family who stops at Target for the gift on the way to the party. Late of course. We eat mac-n-cheese for dinner more than I’d like to admit, because 5:38 sneaks up on us and we’ve got to eat something. I keep telling myself that we’re just in a season of transition right now and after it all shakes out then I’ll get my act together. Then we’ll have a new routine. Then I’ll be a little more sane. Then we’ll be prepared for life.
You probably figured this out a long time ago, but it just hit me; chaos is our reality. There will be no getting ahead of it all and keeping things contained in color-coordinated boxes. I will continue to be lucky to wash my hair or sit on the toilet without a kid climbing onto my lap. We will show up to life with mix-matched outfits and strawberry stains.
I’m trying to embrace the wife/mom/friend/woman I actually am right now instead of focusing on that list of “wish-I-could-be’s”.
The camera has spent most of August on the shelf while the swiffer wet-jet borrowed it’s batteries. When it feels like all we’re doing is driving to the grocery store or facilitating time-outs, we get out of the house. We leave the piles of laundry on the wing-back chair and go experience life to remember that it is bigger than my frustrations about failed nap times.
They’re changing one of the animal shows at the zoo here and we sat through a preview performance. Which meant, nothing went according to plan: the pig didn’t come out on cue, the linx gave the trainer a sassy look and ate all it’s treats without the tricks, the parrots did their fly-over and just kept right on flying without looking back, the seal did different tricks than the ones the trainer was signaling, and the wolf didn’t even bother to come on stage at all. The whole thing was a train-wreck but still completely amusing because of it’s train-wreckedness. And it felt a whole lot like my life. I’m trying to put on a production here and no one is cooperating with the program. Time to let it go and just enjoy the entertainment instead.
Three years old has hit us hard. Harder than anticipated. There are a lot of strong opinions on both sides of the mother-daughter fence and a lot of conversations that begin with, “This is my best compromise…” with all the intensity of a terrorist negotiation. The school year is starting for many kids this week and I’m greedy with the knowledge that I still get mine at home with me. Lots of people have asked me lately if we’re sending Selah Grace to preschool soon. The answer is no. I want her with me; terrorist negotiations and all. Especially since I thought we had three more years at home, but did the math and realized with her little May birthday it means she’ll be in Kindergarten in two years. TWO years! How did I lose an entire year with her. No preschool, thanks. Besides, that’s definitely not in the budget.