It’s (going to be) okay

 

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Is it really okay?

This morning I had one of my ‘When you are engulfed in flames’Thanks David Sedaris and Auntie M moments. Today started out so promising. But I am sure plenty of other mild catastrophes do too.

 

I woke up at 4:45 a.m. (actually, my alarm went off at 4:45 and a few minutes later my husband reminded me that I needed to get up). I met my life wifeWhy you need a Life Wife for our early morning walk – hoping to recapture the grand feeling I had yesterday – but this morning was cloudy and it even rained a little bit toward the end. No matter – we did it and by 8:59 a.m. I had completed my step goal for the day. A lot happened in between those two points though.

Little sister had a rough start today – she woke up overtired and down on life really (some might accuse me of projecting here and they might not be entirely wrong…). I figured a warm shower would restart her day (as it almost never fails me). But the water was too wet. The brown towel I hung on the shower door for her was too – brown – her least favorite color. She struggled as she practiced sketching out octagons but refused help (both watching me draw them and having me draw them for her to pencil out). At this point she had tossed her pencil defiantly across the table, while I tried to keep a cool head and remind her that no one should throw anything, in the event it could impale a surrounding person or pet.

She pushed her notebook away from her seat, knocking over an apple juice glass, spilling it onto the table linens and Big Sister’s homework. This is the point where June Cleaver left me and I called out Sh*t (nope, not shut and sadly not the worst I have said) as I scurried to retrieve the homework and catch the glass before it shattered on the floor. I bunched up the linens and put the glass in the sink while I (honestly) complained that she shouldn’t have done exactly what I had asked her not to just do…yada, yada, yada. Then of course I felt guilty as she needed more love, not less and I hadn’t seen it until I cursed at the day. UGH.

I explained that I wasn’t mad about the juice, or at her, I was just frustrated…as I said this I rinsed off a washcloth in the sink to wipe down the apple juice dripping onto the floor. I noticed that the sink was filling so I turned on the dish disposal forgetting about that juice glass that I had set into the sink.

I know that in “Heartbreak Ridge” Gunny Sgt. Highway says the AK-47 Assault Rifle “makes a distinctive sound” when fired. I am sure he is right. You know what else makes a distinctive sound? A juice glass in garbage disposable makes one. Also, a mom putting her hand in the garbage disposal trying to figure out what the heck that sound was as she cuts her thumb on a protruding shard makes a pretty unique sound (though I refrained from shouting any more profanity, because I had grown as a person in that space). The glass had broken and wedged itself in the dark, impossible drain. When I grabbed at it angrily it hadn’t worked out for me, so I gingerly slid my hands around the sides, coaxing it out incrementally.

After all that fun we still had to run to the library before school as Big Sister had volunteered to bring in a Harry Potter DVD (to go along with the class’s reading of the book)which we didn’t actually own. Little sister went back and forth trying to decide if she could make it through school. (8:00 – “I am too tired and I feel like I am going to throw up”. 8:02 –“I want perfect attendance so I can get a pencil at the end of the week”. 8:05 – “But I am worried that I will puuuuuuuuke”.)

So I suggested she stay home and rest. Instead of prodding her to go, I took her home and folded her into my bed, tucking the sheets around her and turning on soft yoga music in the dark, cool room. I smoothed out her hair and kissed both cheeks and reassured her that she would feel better after she rested. Almost 45 minutes later, she emerged and asked if I would take her to school. So I did.

This is beginning to sound like a nauseating humble-brag, but I wanted to remember all of it. I catch myself trying to do things quickly – trying to rush to a solution so I can fix whatever is presenting. That is where I always go wrong. There is a saying that my husband once explained – Slow is smooth and smooth is fast (at least that is how I remember it). When I put it into practice today everything seemed to work out.

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