I’ve been writing this post for two days, which is pretty sad since I just can’t seem to make it come together in any meaningful way. This post is like Gertrude Stein’s description of L.A., “There’s no there there.”
Let’s press on and Just go with it, okeydoke?
I’m in a mindful state these days, sometimes dipping down into melancholy, occasionally drifting into a sense of wholeness.
I’ve been employing the old live-in-the-moment tactic, and frankly, it’s working for me. I’m not fretting so much about the future. I’m only sporadically fretting about the messes which spring up and multiply around us like the giant dogwoods that are trying to take over my front yard.
I went through boxes and drawers and cupboards yesterday in search of something from college, which I never did find because apparently I am a free spirit about neatness. Meaning, nothing is neat. Organization is kind of like a pale memory from a past life.
When I was the most organized, I was also stressed about it. Casual housekeeping and being sane are better.
I can’t ignore Jack and Charlie’s good summer behavior, because I know it’s helping me practice mindfulness in the face of summer’s frenzy of children.
The guys are being mostly good. I mean, this summer is just going swimmingly compared to recent years. Charlie is blowing me away with the listening and getting his work and therapy done and being generally congenial. Jack is also being generally good, except when he randomly decides to lean over and bite Truman’s foot while they are both sitting on the couch, sending Baby into justified theatrics.
That’s the story: we are mostly well, yet sometimes crap blows apart the tableau. It’s always there, the possibility of the veneer of normalcy falling away in a blink as some violent/loud/loco thing happens. I’m trying to take it in stride and not fret about it.
It will happen. And we will deal with it when it happens. Okeydoke.
And with that, here’s this other thing: I’m on a podcast about special needs families. Listen in and take a gander: