Y’all, here’s the sitch…
I’m doing too many things, and they’re all important so I won’t stop doing any of them.
Sound familiar? Yes? Yes. I figured I was in good company around here.
I was so tired last night my teeth hurt. Like, into my jaw. And my eyelids were sticky. I think it’s their cry for help. I pulled the feverish, puking kid into bed with me, kicked Greg out, and stayed up until 3am reading Spellbinder by Thea Harrison and eating a tub of chocolate macaroons I found hiding in the back of the pantry. Not the whole tub, though. I left one because moderation is important.
Understand, I’m well. As in, mentally healthy. You know, ish. As much as can be expected. I’m not drowning. Not lost right now or sitting in the dark. I’m just… so tired. And yes, technically staying up ‘til the wee hours of the morning isn’t helping that situation, but I’m a mommy, folks, and mommies will beg, borrow, and steal time wherever we can get it.
My twins turned 12 last weekend. We partied hard.
I turned 45 more quietly with a fire and marshmallows and my family playing tag on the lawn.
One kid needs dyslexia testing. Another is in counseling for ongoing anxiety. (Like Mother like Kid — wheeee!) The college kid is having her regularly scheduled Midterm Panic Attack with a side of the flu. We have new kittens who are the Very Best Kittens in the Entire World.
And we’re probably buying a farm next week.
Tomorrow, we’re hosting our final Meet Your Local Politician event because Everything Changed in 2016 (or rather, we finally realized folks had been suffering all along), so it’s no time to sit back and accept business as usual. LMK if you want to come hang out in our backyard with hot cider next to the fire. Not to brag, but we weeded and everything.
And next weekend, we’re hosting a backyard wedding reception for Bee and Col, aka the coolest humans ever. I Cannot Wait to celebrate them.
And finally, we’re Nose to the Grindstone / Balls to the Wall / Feet to the Pavement working on getting our oldest boy into a group home right now. He’ll be 19 next month, and he reports he’s READY with ALL CAPS to move out. And I’m ready to let him because it’s clearly Time. He needs more than we can give him these days. More social interaction. More friends. More purpose. More structure. More aid. So I’m ready except when I’m panicky and not ready at all because who will he talk to when he’s lonely and afraid? And what will happen in the middle of the night when he misses his dog? And who will reassure him when he starts at a new school or a new day support program or a new job that He Can Do Hard Things and He Has Wonderful Gifts and He Will, Too, Make Friends? Who will understand his bottomless need for encouragement and remind him he’s smart and funny and talented and the fact that his brain works differently than yours or mine doesn’t change the fact that those things are true?
After mountains of paperwork and myriad meetings, we’re visiting a home this afternoon that may be a truly excellent fit. He’s excited. I’m excited. And I feel guilty I don’t want to keep this kid at home forever. I get the transition to adulthood for my other kids. I welcome it, actually. I find it exhilarating and fun, and I love the evolving friendships with my kids as they grow into their majority. This one I’m not sure how to navigate as well. Where to keep him tethered. Where to set him free.
I don’t know — maybe that’s always the question anyway. Where do I drop my anchor? Where do use my wings?
Friends, I know this is a jumbled mess, but such is life this October. This is my sitch for now. I’d love to hear about yours, too.
With love, and always waving,
P.S. If you’re waiting for your St. Jude pendant and necklace, DO NOT FEAR. I’m behind on All the Things, as usual, but they’re coming soon. And I have a few more options for those of you who still want them.
P.P.S. Seriously with these babies…