perfect...

Dear Reade,

I am a one woman comedy fest of errors right now. A perfect storm of shit and spills and chaos. I know parenting life isn't primarily consumed by these kinds of days, but the last few days have been...

Perfect.

Really.

Really?

Really.

After washing blueberry smoothie off the floor, myself and then the ceiling I went racing downstairs to deal with Boy-o's "catastrophe." "Mama, it's really bad." And I found the unplugged telephone (the one I leave unplugged so that the kids don't cut us off from the outside world) off the hook. Girlie followed us downstairs leaving a trail of liquid poop in her wake. All over the plastic straws the children spilled earlier. All over the single carpeted space in our entire home. After I cleaned her up and washed the carpet and cleaned up the kitchen floor and threw away the straws -- with the help of my very helpful children...ugh -- I asked Boy-o to come wash his hands. Instead he picked up the organic dehydrated cane sugar and stuck his hand in the bag.

We're out of laundry detergent. Ditto eggs, black tea, and straws. :) Also dehydrated cane sugar now.

We seem to have no shortage of shit though.

It took a good hour into the movie I was watching tonight before I realized that I was clenching my teeth. Do you think? Am I a little tense?

I'm working on relaxing. It has been a crazy few days. Boy-o got sick in the night on Thursday. You had day surgery on Friday. The car inexplicably stopped working while you were out running errands. You headed off to class. Girlie and I got sick by lunch time on Saturday. I was supposed to preach Sunday for the first time in more than a year and a half and had to cancel (guilt free!) on account of puke-and-pooping-sickness. Last night in the middle of the night you got sick. And then today with the blueberries, straws, poop, laundry and the normal spills of milk and water and tea.

Today's episodes are just more in a long line of crazy things all coming together perfectly at the same time.

And I'm about to eat my first meal (aside from broth, apple sauce and water) since Friday. Just the thought simultaneously makes me salivate and want to throw up. Having carefully prepared this bit of leftovers I took one bite and lost my spoon in the bottom of the pot.

I'm getting another spoon. I'm eating some soup. Then I'm going to bed.

Our next scheduled "perfect" weekend is three years from now. Once it gets closer I might be feeling wistful. Without recording this in an archive I might crazily decide to bump up the next occurrence of a weekend of perfection. Who knows?

:)

Love to you,
Jenn

P.S. This is the reality of our day on only one level. People who I could not have got along without talked to me a various points throughout the day and made the difference between me being a slave in the midst of a crumby day and being able to laugh at the craziness of it all. I am so grateful for friends, for family (and that laundry detergent!) and for being in an entirely different head space than I was a year ago. Raise a piece of toast or a wine glass (depending on which end of the day you are at) to grace and the grandness of life.

To life!