It's just messy, huh?
How the heck does a person straddle the two and stay sane?
I have had many conversations played out in my head to blog about this, only to be interrupted, confused, busy, sick or just wiped out.
available in my etsy shop HERE
For instance, the messy bits:
Between Brenna and myself, the month has held 12 doctor appointments (Yes. I counted.)
Shingles last a long time and nine Extra-Strength Tylenol every day for several weeks is too much.
Graduations are SO full of emotion.
The amazing bits:
Having coffee with someone who LISTENS to all the messy.
My husband telling me, "I like you" before he falls asleep.
Realizing this is Brenna's last "summer vacation" from school and next June she will age out of public education and the great unknown looms ahead.
A second oral surgery and bone graft for Brenna because the dental implant didn't work.
Tri-annual IEP's suck. Especially when they are the day after the oral surgery.
It's never easy to be told what age level your child does or does not measure up to by a school psychologist, no matter how kind they are in their presentation.
Laughing with my eldest until I cry.
Rubbing noses with my youngest.
Having the singular best son-in-law in the history of son-in-laws.
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Somewhere in the bronchitis episode, driving down the freeway with Brenna and Doug, Brenna got sick to her stomach.
In the car.
Driving down the freeway.
Not near an exit.
We had two empty cups in the car and, God Bless her, Brenna rotated hurling into each one, handing them back to me, where I then chucked the contents out the window of our moving car, looking desperately into the side mirror to make sure no one was close enough behind us to end up with barf on their windshield and then handing back the empty cup to Brenna to repeat the whole awful process.
I think it was three times, and yes. I was again counting. It's o.k. to do when you are horrified.
I didn't hurl after chucking six cups of vomit out the window of a moving vehicle.
My brain trying to fathom how I find art in the midst of the last month, which turns into numerous questions of how I'm even supposed to DO art, what I'm to do with the art IF I can create, which I haven't been doing, and what the HECK happened to the path I thought I was on and how does everyone else do this and why can't I get anything done and and and...enter pity party, confusion, doubt, green eyes, snarky thoughts in my head and various other forms of mess.
Turning off my phone and computer.
My husband saying, "I totally get why you feel the way you do."
Art in different forms.
Jesus Calling, by Sarah Young
Waking up and deciding to spend the day in the present moment.
Jumping into the swimming pool without reservation.
Movies on the grass.
Seeing a shooting star.
Texts with my sisters.
Cooking with my children and sharing meals.
Leaving my hands open.
Choosing to walk away from doubt and fear, knowing full well it will be there whenever I decide to pick it back up, cause I will.
But maybe each time I do, I'll walk away sooner.