embrace the crazy.

yesterday i started writing a post about the leaves & the mud in my entryway, about the happy footsteps running down the hall to change out of wet clothes after rain dancing, about how sometimes i’m just. so. tired. & craning to appreciate these joyous childhoods in my stead.

[yep.  those are sleds in their hands.  that’s what we do here.  wanna come play?]

today, however, is a new day.  perhaps it is a shift in the wind. more than likely it is the perspective of my best friend, Beth, who tells me repeatedly that this stage of overwhelm IS NOT PERMANENT.  there will come a time again when i will shower.

so, in an effort to regain my footing, i’m declaring a new philosophy (cue the fanfare):

EMBRACE THE CRAZY.

because, really, if i don’t, i will cry.  i will not see the humor in the yogurt container shooting into the living room, streaking vanilla glop like drywall cement.  i won’t appreciate the joke in slapping a fly with the fly swatter & the swat end snapping off, sending little plastic bits everywhere, WHILE kieran is balancing on great grandma’s rocking chair in the next room, reaching over a stack of books for my too-large-for-little-hands mug of tea.  holy moly.

if i don’t embrace the crazy, i will spend valuable time fretting over the dirt on the floor, the toilet that seems permanently unflushed by forgetful boys (sorry.  tmi.), the windows i once thought i saw rain through but realized it was only all grub gone unwashed, the laundry i can’t keep up to. . . .  oy.

& if i don’t embrace the crazy, & teach myself to relax, i will certainly not appreciate my kids’ oozing creativity (& i do mean oozing.).  nor will i make time for my own: in this space, in journalling, in photographing this crazy, ordinary life.

& really, i have the power to write myself a better story.  right now, i need to tone down this main character’s focus on triviality & get her redirected back toward her true loves, these four little people & a huz.   this heroine may as well enjoy the craziness of the ride while it’s here.  it’s fleeting, after all.

at least that’s what they tell me.

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