I don't claim to be an expert in what it is that I am doing. I don't feel for one second that I know what it is that will happen next. I don't really understand the process of grieving, other than the fact that it is a process you have to let happen. Never skipping a step, as you are bound by fate to have to go through it one time or another.
I haven't read any of the books. I'm not proud of that. I've been given tons. With only the simplest of gestures from someone's heart to mine, I cannot bear to crack them. I am not sure if it is because I'm scared. I'm not sure if it is because I'm lazy. I'm not sure if it is because I lack the time. I'm fairly certain it's because I fear I'm going to be made to look at my downfalls over the last 16 months. Like kicking dirt over a hole, it just doesn't fill up the same.
I've been able to classify the stages of grief that I've been through so far. I've understood them for what they are and waited them out. Knowing the next one I go through puts me further through this whole thing. Fear, sadness, anger, isolation, resentment...not necessarily in that order. Now it seems I've cornered the market on 'my' next one...disappointment.
It sucks. It sucks to know that you have disappointed someone. It sucks to know that it can't really be taken back. Problem is, I feel like I'm at a crossroads. Once I would have tried to change myself to quell the situation. But, currently, I cannot. It's frustrating, as my only excuse is that "I don't know what I'm doing" doesn't make the situation better. It's infuriating to know that maybe you are your worst judge of self, but seeing it in someone else's eyes...it's cutting. I guess the hardest part is that meanwhile, you are living your life, knowing you are doing your best. But, it's part of the process?
I'm not looking for validation of what I do. I'm not looking for someone to 'Soft Kitty' me and tell me I'm a champ. I just want this feeling to go away. Far, far away, with the rest of these words used earlier in this process. I know it has to run it's course, however. I know that my actions effect others. I know that I will fill the hole eventually...maybe with dirt, maybe with liquor bottles.
Saturday, March 8, 2014
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
Who is Gladys?
Life only gives you what you can handle...right? There are times when I think life is trying hard to get you to notice something, and you're missing it. As if capable of giving you a wedgie to get your attention. Instead life puts all these other subtle reminders up, hoping that at some point your ignorant a*^ will wake the hell up and take notice.
For me, I notice only the obvious things. I notice through my flaws. I notice through my failed attempts. If that doesn't work, it comes in the form of a question from my kids. This week, I've pretty much nailed all of the above...but what is it telling me?
The topics of discussion here have been interesting in the last two weeks to say the least. We've tackled bullying and how to stop it happening to you. Now, I'd like to say it all played out like an after school special? But I believe the direct quote I got was, "...um, no offence Mom, but things work differently now than they did in the 80's..." Um? Burn? But the discussion was lively and made me see that I'm raising some what self sufficient kids when it came to the topic. 80's? Really?
Next topic was poverty. Are we poor? I've been asked this before. Usually I give my standard answer of, "...we have each other, we are richer than money could ever make us..." But, the older kids get, the more they need to understand the value of a dollar, and also that I'm not growing money, like someone might grow cannabis in their basement. I answered this question maybe a bit too honest. But I explained that times were tough everywhere. The people who are undoubtedly "RICH" were actually few and far between. We are on a strict budget, and that's why some things people do all the time are a 'treat' to us. Life has to have moderation, otherwise noting is ever truly appreciated.
Cut to me, opening the church bulletin this Sunday at lunch. I scan it, reading the on-goings. To see that the parishioner the church is praying for this week...is me. I read it out to the kids, clearly not masking the surprise in my voice. Hilariously, even they were questioning it. Nora kept saying, "...we need to head over there and see what this is all about..." I'm taking that as a sign. However, it did scan my brain to wonder if I had indeed always worn my underwear UNDER my clothes. There was of course, the day-glow-bra incident...
Then this morning, as I was sorting out the dungeon-like Talls room, I missed a phone call from Gladys. Who is Gladys? Well, I didn't know her either. She called and left a message from "Women in Need", and would I please call her back at my earliest convenience. My first though was, what? Need? Yeah, I need a nanny and some booze. Couldn't be that easy, could it? Well, once I got a hold of Gladys, I told her who I was. She mentioned that she thought maybe her assistant wrote the number down wrong. I asked what it was her organization did. She said they assist victims of spousal abuse. Now, laughing out loud to this probably isn't something that Gladys usually hears, but seriously? I assured her that I was not in need of her organization...
Not sure I want to know what these signs all add up to mean. Was it a life altering alert? Or just a subtle nudge to remind me that the world is still turning and we're still on it? I'll be looking up for anvils and mindful for stepping over cracks for a while.
For me, I notice only the obvious things. I notice through my flaws. I notice through my failed attempts. If that doesn't work, it comes in the form of a question from my kids. This week, I've pretty much nailed all of the above...but what is it telling me?
The topics of discussion here have been interesting in the last two weeks to say the least. We've tackled bullying and how to stop it happening to you. Now, I'd like to say it all played out like an after school special? But I believe the direct quote I got was, "...um, no offence Mom, but things work differently now than they did in the 80's..." Um? Burn? But the discussion was lively and made me see that I'm raising some what self sufficient kids when it came to the topic. 80's? Really?
Next topic was poverty. Are we poor? I've been asked this before. Usually I give my standard answer of, "...we have each other, we are richer than money could ever make us..." But, the older kids get, the more they need to understand the value of a dollar, and also that I'm not growing money, like someone might grow cannabis in their basement. I answered this question maybe a bit too honest. But I explained that times were tough everywhere. The people who are undoubtedly "RICH" were actually few and far between. We are on a strict budget, and that's why some things people do all the time are a 'treat' to us. Life has to have moderation, otherwise noting is ever truly appreciated.
Cut to me, opening the church bulletin this Sunday at lunch. I scan it, reading the on-goings. To see that the parishioner the church is praying for this week...is me. I read it out to the kids, clearly not masking the surprise in my voice. Hilariously, even they were questioning it. Nora kept saying, "...we need to head over there and see what this is all about..." I'm taking that as a sign. However, it did scan my brain to wonder if I had indeed always worn my underwear UNDER my clothes. There was of course, the day-glow-bra incident...
Then this morning, as I was sorting out the dungeon-like Talls room, I missed a phone call from Gladys. Who is Gladys? Well, I didn't know her either. She called and left a message from "Women in Need", and would I please call her back at my earliest convenience. My first though was, what? Need? Yeah, I need a nanny and some booze. Couldn't be that easy, could it? Well, once I got a hold of Gladys, I told her who I was. She mentioned that she thought maybe her assistant wrote the number down wrong. I asked what it was her organization did. She said they assist victims of spousal abuse. Now, laughing out loud to this probably isn't something that Gladys usually hears, but seriously? I assured her that I was not in need of her organization...
Not sure I want to know what these signs all add up to mean. Was it a life altering alert? Or just a subtle nudge to remind me that the world is still turning and we're still on it? I'll be looking up for anvils and mindful for stepping over cracks for a while.
It's take your pants off Tuesday!
Well, I admit it. I was smug. I was cocky that we'd survived this winter unscathed with anything other than the need to make up games to entertain ourselves. You know, the ones that would possibly put us directly into straight jackets if we tried to explain during a psychiatric evaluation. We had survived this brutal winter with no sicknesses...until yesterday.
Ninety dollars and forty-five minutes in a very small examining room, you can do a lot of soul searching. Why my kids find it fun/necessary to think they have to strip down to get their throat examined? I have no idea. While the very patient doctor was asking all the questions she needed, her patients were listing every single thing that ailed them. I cannot be sure but I think one patient complained of fingernail sensitivity.
Meanwhile, Atti was tearing into anything that wasn't nailed down. Opening drawers, pushing buttons and inspecting the built in stirrups at the end of the examining table. As I barricaded the door so as not to have a runner, it occurred to me that we were not going to be so lucky with this visit. Sinus infection, two cases of strep throat, and a skin eating bacteria...and it was only Monday? Not exactly sure if Atti and I have anything to diagnose yet. Fairly certain the CDC hasn't even classified what we may be brewing. We lie in wait...
This harsh winter has given many time to do a little soul searching. It's given the members of our "exclusive club of crazy" many goals to set for ourselves. You know, when we can once again venture outdoors without having to check to see if we are missing digits to frost bite. It has also, while at times maddening, found us acknowledging our triggers, our limits to lunacy, and the ability to laugh when basically there isn't anything else to do. When it's that cold, you actually have to stay indoors...and talk to each other! Foreign thought that shouldn't be, but it's true. I've told stories, heard stories, and we've made up stories. We've rearranged furniture, got creative with cooking (who am I kidding, mac-n-cheese is still a food group in this house). We've cleaned out closets, not dusted or mopped enough, but thoroughly discussed a garden.
Popcorn for dinner? Yes. While meagerly finding out guacamole isn't worth gagging over there have been triumphs. How else would kitchen-floor-spatula-Ping-Pong have been invented? Or the fact that while 'Take Your Pants Off Tuesday' is usually an afternoon event, Atti believes it isn't limited to Tuesday. The fun to be had with boredom will not probably be remembered a year from now, but it's how we are surviving. Well, a full liquor cabinet is helpful too...
Ninety dollars and forty-five minutes in a very small examining room, you can do a lot of soul searching. Why my kids find it fun/necessary to think they have to strip down to get their throat examined? I have no idea. While the very patient doctor was asking all the questions she needed, her patients were listing every single thing that ailed them. I cannot be sure but I think one patient complained of fingernail sensitivity.
Meanwhile, Atti was tearing into anything that wasn't nailed down. Opening drawers, pushing buttons and inspecting the built in stirrups at the end of the examining table. As I barricaded the door so as not to have a runner, it occurred to me that we were not going to be so lucky with this visit. Sinus infection, two cases of strep throat, and a skin eating bacteria...and it was only Monday? Not exactly sure if Atti and I have anything to diagnose yet. Fairly certain the CDC hasn't even classified what we may be brewing. We lie in wait...
This harsh winter has given many time to do a little soul searching. It's given the members of our "exclusive club of crazy" many goals to set for ourselves. You know, when we can once again venture outdoors without having to check to see if we are missing digits to frost bite. It has also, while at times maddening, found us acknowledging our triggers, our limits to lunacy, and the ability to laugh when basically there isn't anything else to do. When it's that cold, you actually have to stay indoors...and talk to each other! Foreign thought that shouldn't be, but it's true. I've told stories, heard stories, and we've made up stories. We've rearranged furniture, got creative with cooking (who am I kidding, mac-n-cheese is still a food group in this house). We've cleaned out closets, not dusted or mopped enough, but thoroughly discussed a garden.
Popcorn for dinner? Yes. While meagerly finding out guacamole isn't worth gagging over there have been triumphs. How else would kitchen-floor-spatula-Ping-Pong have been invented? Or the fact that while 'Take Your Pants Off Tuesday' is usually an afternoon event, Atti believes it isn't limited to Tuesday. The fun to be had with boredom will not probably be remembered a year from now, but it's how we are surviving. Well, a full liquor cabinet is helpful too...
Saturday, February 22, 2014
...prison break
I love my children dearly. I love that I get to watch them grow into such different amazing people.I'm lucky because they are great kids. I don't begrudge my obligation to be their parent. To be a guiding influence in life, to have short nights, early mornings and loud rowdy days. That being said, it has been three weeks since I have been out of my house WITHOUT them. Tonight, as most anyone I know already knows since I have mentioned it ad nauseam, I'm getting out of the house!
I've already mentioned to my little rays of sunshine that while I love them, when the babysitter steps one foot into the house tonight, I will be stepping one foot out. I try to reassure them it isn't that don't want to be here with them. It's that I have to actually leave them every once and a while for me to appreciate them more. Not sure what I'm going to do (well, I totally do but that's for me to know), but some time away is, at this point in my brain, "critical-need" status.
That's the thing about my life...I miss spontaneity. I never appreciated it when I had it. I never actually took advantage of it ever before. I miss someone saying, "Get dressed, we're going out..." or even, "...no, you head out to the store alone, I've got this...". That's where my 'control-freak' button kicks in. It's cleverly hidden behind my left ear. Not because I enjoy having it, it's necessary for survival. For me to do anything alone, I have to not only plan ahead, make phone calls, try not to sound too needy, and line up everything else in this house so that I can leave seamlessly...and...I hate that. I hate asking for help (I know, this is constantly said, but really I need to wear a sign). I hate that I can't just slip out and have some alone time. I hate that by the time I actually get out of the house, my brain has already checked out DAYS before. I hate that I might be giving my kids the subliminal message that at times I can't handle...life.
In a perfect world, I'd be independently wealthy. Care.com would actually find someone to help me babysit my kids one day a week. In a perfect world, I wouldn't feel like someone needing a PRISON BREAK...In a perfect world I could handle all of this, well, better. I feel pretty empowered by what I have mastered so far in this new life of ours. I have figured out how to get stuff done, not like I would have done them before, but oh well. My house is 'clean', my kids are fed, the laundry is still getting done. I keep thinking that with more time under my belt, I'll figure out the "getting out of the house" business...you know, before I'm mentally squealing the tires out of my driveway in my minivan screaming FREEDOM!!!
I've already mentioned to my little rays of sunshine that while I love them, when the babysitter steps one foot into the house tonight, I will be stepping one foot out. I try to reassure them it isn't that don't want to be here with them. It's that I have to actually leave them every once and a while for me to appreciate them more. Not sure what I'm going to do (well, I totally do but that's for me to know), but some time away is, at this point in my brain, "critical-need" status.
That's the thing about my life...I miss spontaneity. I never appreciated it when I had it. I never actually took advantage of it ever before. I miss someone saying, "Get dressed, we're going out..." or even, "...no, you head out to the store alone, I've got this...". That's where my 'control-freak' button kicks in. It's cleverly hidden behind my left ear. Not because I enjoy having it, it's necessary for survival. For me to do anything alone, I have to not only plan ahead, make phone calls, try not to sound too needy, and line up everything else in this house so that I can leave seamlessly...and...I hate that. I hate asking for help (I know, this is constantly said, but really I need to wear a sign). I hate that I can't just slip out and have some alone time. I hate that by the time I actually get out of the house, my brain has already checked out DAYS before. I hate that I might be giving my kids the subliminal message that at times I can't handle...life.
In a perfect world, I'd be independently wealthy. Care.com would actually find someone to help me babysit my kids one day a week. In a perfect world, I wouldn't feel like someone needing a PRISON BREAK...In a perfect world I could handle all of this, well, better. I feel pretty empowered by what I have mastered so far in this new life of ours. I have figured out how to get stuff done, not like I would have done them before, but oh well. My house is 'clean', my kids are fed, the laundry is still getting done. I keep thinking that with more time under my belt, I'll figure out the "getting out of the house" business...you know, before I'm mentally squealing the tires out of my driveway in my minivan screaming FREEDOM!!!
Sunday, February 9, 2014
...Sundays and a DAY GLO bra...
...I know someday...Someday, I will enjoy a leisurely Sunday...I haven't really seen one in 9 years. There are those foreign moments...those times when I catch myself, sitting doing nothing on a Sunday, only to have to get up and get someone a Kleenex and then do more laundry.
Going to church is like an Olympic event. I feel as though if I make it through the whole thing, and we are all still alive, with a furrowed but moistened brow from fighting a FREAKISHLY strong two year old for an hour...I await the interview from the commentator at the door....
Going to church is like an Olympic event. I feel as though if I make it through the whole thing, and we are all still alive, with a furrowed but moistened brow from fighting a FREAKISHLY strong two year old for an hour...I await the interview from the commentator at the door....
"So, Kate...How do you think you did? There was a time during the Lord's Prayer when it looked like it was all going to fall apart..."
"...Well Frank... I'm not going to lie...I ran out of animal crackers at a crucial point of play and to say it was touch and go...well, I'm just glad I finished....See you next week..." -end scene.
Today...it was no exception. I love the town we live in, it has all the best a small town has to offer. The only thing I miss is being a little anonymous. You're late to church, you miss church, your kids like to pick out a wedgie at church...it's all being seen. If you go to mass at another church, you better tell one woman there, as she will remind you every time she sees you that you were clearly missing...up note that I have to remind myself, at least someone even cares.
Today, I felt like I had all my ducks in a row. Snacks, drinks, Kleenex, toys, pacifiers, I had it...except the church envelope. For some reason, when my kids get into church, it's as if they forget HOW to take off their coats. They just sit down and look at me...with my duffel bag of tricks and a howler monkey two year old on my hip, I shoot them a look of, okay, what do you think you do next? Everyone adapted, an early request for a snack denied and quickly discussed that underwear were not a topic for church conversation. Interestingly enough, I no more say that, than I'm taking off my coat, and my sweater and shirt get statically STUCK. As I'm taking off my coat, half of my clothes come off of one arm, and boom all of the right side of church gets to see my DAY GLOW bra...classy...may have to start sitting in the back of church.
But, the strangest thing happened today...I was given my leisure. I wrestled the howler monkey into submission and before I knew it...for the first time...he fell asleep, snoring and clutching a plastic dinosaur. I actually heard what was being said and actively participated. It was appreciated, thank you so much who ever had a hand in it. Afterward, this kind gentleman who sits behind us put his arm around me and told my how well behaved my kids were. I thanked him, shot him a wink, and assured him that I hadn't drugged any of them...today.
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
...where June Cleaver meets Mommy Dearest..
Snow. Snow. Fevers. Tantrums. Cleaning. Popcorn. Movies. Snow...honestly, I'm not like the rest. I don't mind the snow days we have been having. I'm lazy I suppose. I'm grateful not have to leave my house. It's a verified reason to wear your P.J.s all day long, sport some rockin' bed head, and basically be slovenly...at least for a little while.
So, with snow days and sick kids a bound a very rare occurrence happened the other day...I took a nap. Doesn't sound earth shattering but that's how rare it is here. While asleep, I had this very real dream, where I was speaking to someone I know on social media, but have never actually met. She asked me a question that so fired me up! It's a harmless question really, but at times when asked, it does feel as if it's loaded. I was sitting across from this girl and she asked me, "So, what do you do?".
Now, in the moment, I became slightly dictator-like in answering the question. I will preface this by saying, I believe I was born into the wrong era. One lone light shone on me, and the questioner far back on the other side of the room. I felt as though I was answering this question how I've wanted to answer it the millions of other times I've been asked, but chickened out. I was answering it with not myself only in mind, but for the millions of other women who also have to answer this question. Not sure why it enrages me, perhaps the frequent response to my answer is what triggers it...usually some indication that I don't have a 'real job'....that's where June Cleaver meets Mommy Dearest...
I answered the question in such a way that doesn't elude to the fact that I'm so well to do that I can stay home with/for my kids. I answered it in a way that right now, I make wise choices, follow a budget, go without luxuries, and still get to be home with my kids. I answered it in a way that didn't portray me as a mother when I started my time nine years ago. Rather a mother for 2+4+8+9 years...because in reality that's how you should add up the accomplishments of a mother...and you've lived to tell the tale. I answered the question, making sure to include that if I did work outside the home, I'd be handing a paycheck over to someone else. That someone else was also rewarded by seeing all the milestones that I missed out on for a job that wasn't as important to me...at least as important as the job I'm doing now. I am proud to know mothers that work outside the home. I marvel at their dedication to something they love to do as well as being a mother...I just haven't found it yet. I know this bubble I live in will very soon become more expensive to live comfortably in...
So, I answered the question, of this woman whom I've never met face to face. Again, not really understanding this dream, where it came from or how it came to be...other than maybe being reminded to keep answering in the way that I did, as long as I can...My answer was very simply and to the point, "...oh, I'm a stay at home Mom..." and then I woke up.
So, with snow days and sick kids a bound a very rare occurrence happened the other day...I took a nap. Doesn't sound earth shattering but that's how rare it is here. While asleep, I had this very real dream, where I was speaking to someone I know on social media, but have never actually met. She asked me a question that so fired me up! It's a harmless question really, but at times when asked, it does feel as if it's loaded. I was sitting across from this girl and she asked me, "So, what do you do?".
Now, in the moment, I became slightly dictator-like in answering the question. I will preface this by saying, I believe I was born into the wrong era. One lone light shone on me, and the questioner far back on the other side of the room. I felt as though I was answering this question how I've wanted to answer it the millions of other times I've been asked, but chickened out. I was answering it with not myself only in mind, but for the millions of other women who also have to answer this question. Not sure why it enrages me, perhaps the frequent response to my answer is what triggers it...usually some indication that I don't have a 'real job'....that's where June Cleaver meets Mommy Dearest...
I answered the question in such a way that doesn't elude to the fact that I'm so well to do that I can stay home with/for my kids. I answered it in a way that right now, I make wise choices, follow a budget, go without luxuries, and still get to be home with my kids. I answered it in a way that didn't portray me as a mother when I started my time nine years ago. Rather a mother for 2+4+8+9 years...because in reality that's how you should add up the accomplishments of a mother...and you've lived to tell the tale. I answered the question, making sure to include that if I did work outside the home, I'd be handing a paycheck over to someone else. That someone else was also rewarded by seeing all the milestones that I missed out on for a job that wasn't as important to me...at least as important as the job I'm doing now. I am proud to know mothers that work outside the home. I marvel at their dedication to something they love to do as well as being a mother...I just haven't found it yet. I know this bubble I live in will very soon become more expensive to live comfortably in...
So, I answered the question, of this woman whom I've never met face to face. Again, not really understanding this dream, where it came from or how it came to be...other than maybe being reminded to keep answering in the way that I did, as long as I can...My answer was very simply and to the point, "...oh, I'm a stay at home Mom..." and then I woke up.
Monday, February 3, 2014
...listlessness and indifference...
Not sure who to point the finger at...Mother Nature? The Ground Hog? Well, at least those two I know which finger I'd be pointing. This one isn't for the faint of heart. It seems the irony that I am usually able to point at and make fun of has sort of taken a back seat to life lately. Not sure if it's the winter blahs or the winter of my discontent or just life catching up with me.
I talk about my house a lot. We have a love affair he(?) and I do. The vastness, the beauty, the uncommon features, they are not lost on me. I still wander around it, in the quiet early morning hours and look from corner to corner knowing how blessed I am to be living here. I sip my coffee and whisper gently to him to try not to fall apart all at once, my heart couldn't take it...as I know forever to mean something different now. I know it's ridiculous to believe I should be here at all, let alone forever, and I try to take a minute each day to be in love and terrified of this house all at the same time...it's a labor of love.
Being a parent isn't all there is to me, but it's my 18+ hour a day job and at times I feel like I'm not easily tapped out. Even recently when I was out of daily environment, I'm still cleaning up tables, picking up coats, tiding things...and I thought to myself, "What the hell are you doing? Stop!..." but I couldn't. I needed to be doing something. A kin to holding a 'blankie', it stunted the opportunity I could have had to sit, laugh, and enjoy the company around me. Maybe that's my tell? Maybe I'm to the point where keeping busy is easier than having to engage? Sometimes the lack of irony life holds does not escape me. While the scenario may be unfortunate, there is no reversal of experiences...and it appears my view from this picture window has changed...time to rearrange the furniture.
I never just hid. In all these months since our life has changed, I've never just hid. I've been blessed with family and friends and those who love me wanting to ease myburden no, my day to day. Taking the kids while I run errands, having them spend extended time with them, even coming to my house and telling me to leave for the night. All things I am beyond grateful for, especially when they take into the equation that I am horrible at asking for help. I wish I would have taken those same people up on the option to hide earlier. I feel now, that I'm not sure I could actually do it (yes, my name is Kate, and I'm a control freak), and I'm not sure what good it would do...I would only end up feeling guilty for not having been productive, and dread going home because while I love every molecule of my children, sometimes reality isn't as much fun.
It seems that I'm in a big time-warped-rut of listlessness and indifference. So, while Mother Nature told her dirty secrets to the Ground Hog, and evidently the Farmer's Almanac, as it has predicted every flake of icy snow we have been given...I will listen to the principle of the school tell me in his prerecorded message that yes, indeed school will be canceled tomorrow. Six more weeks until Spring...and praying my mood will be improved before then...
I talk about my house a lot. We have a love affair he(?) and I do. The vastness, the beauty, the uncommon features, they are not lost on me. I still wander around it, in the quiet early morning hours and look from corner to corner knowing how blessed I am to be living here. I sip my coffee and whisper gently to him to try not to fall apart all at once, my heart couldn't take it...as I know forever to mean something different now. I know it's ridiculous to believe I should be here at all, let alone forever, and I try to take a minute each day to be in love and terrified of this house all at the same time...it's a labor of love.
Being a parent isn't all there is to me, but it's my 18+ hour a day job and at times I feel like I'm not easily tapped out. Even recently when I was out of daily environment, I'm still cleaning up tables, picking up coats, tiding things...and I thought to myself, "What the hell are you doing? Stop!..." but I couldn't. I needed to be doing something. A kin to holding a 'blankie', it stunted the opportunity I could have had to sit, laugh, and enjoy the company around me. Maybe that's my tell? Maybe I'm to the point where keeping busy is easier than having to engage? Sometimes the lack of irony life holds does not escape me. While the scenario may be unfortunate, there is no reversal of experiences...and it appears my view from this picture window has changed...time to rearrange the furniture.
I never just hid. In all these months since our life has changed, I've never just hid. I've been blessed with family and friends and those who love me wanting to ease my
It seems that I'm in a big time-warped-rut of listlessness and indifference. So, while Mother Nature told her dirty secrets to the Ground Hog, and evidently the Farmer's Almanac, as it has predicted every flake of icy snow we have been given...I will listen to the principle of the school tell me in his prerecorded message that yes, indeed school will be canceled tomorrow. Six more weeks until Spring...and praying my mood will be improved before then...
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