Dawn described it like a roller coaster. Or maybe it was a pendulum. Whichever. I am constantly swinging between one extreme and the other this week. And when I say "extreme" I mean that. I mean extreme. Like "extreme sports" or other ridiculous ideas like that.
There is not enough Van Morrison and Grateful Dead music in the world, much less on Pandora, to keep me calmed down and happy enough during some of those extremes. Other extremes I think everything is fine, really good, and then it swings the other way. Or the roller coaster car tips slowly at the top of the hill as it plummets to the bottom.
Fiona's had a hard week. We had a block party. Troy screwed up royally. His apology was something to write home about, something to ruminate on--but really, it only comes because of the stunning lack of forethought to begin with. I started walking into my classroom a little more regularly. I had coffee with a colleague that set my mind at ease about some things but on edge about others. I've had to drag myself out of the abyss on Zelda's porch more than once. I had 5 cups of bourbon slush at the block party. The chips were nicely salty to go along with the guacamole. It's been threatening rain all week but nothing came until today while I sat in a drugstore parking lot with a hysterical 5 year old trying his hardest to break my hand and bolt from the car.
Some weeks catch you coming and going.
are like childbirth--you just have to push your way out. And considering
how lousy I was at that, imagine how weeks like this are.
Some weeks kids throw up on you. You fight with people you love. You take a long hard look at yourself in the mirror and wonder who that person is. You look into someone's eyes and realize they don't see the world the way you do. And some weeks you go to lunch with your sister and mother and have a nice time.
Some weeks you finally turn on the electric light and get down to what is really wrong. You learn how to communicate. You learn how to give and how to receive. You learn how to apologize, how to find the way back in the door. You figure out what to say and what to leave out. You wish you had better filters.
Some weeks you cry. You get too tired to cry. You laugh and hear yourself laughing and wonder if that's always what you sound like.
Some weeks potty training fails, middle children scream out for attention, and oldest girls are out of sorts. And someone gets croup.
Some weeks you realize your unfinished business is wrapped up and now there is new unfinished business to attend to.
Some weeks human nature trumps your best intentions.
Some weeks you grab hold of the person in your kitchen and hold on tight and the reasons don't even matter anymore.