Sometimes, you just have to laugh and then have a little cry, a guttural scream, a prayer and finally, a "what will be, will be" surrender moment...this for me can transpire all in the same breath and began my Friday morning.
I should know by now that with three children, the world can blow up at any time. I'm also aware that in the realm of blowing up, we have no idea of the kind of real trauma that can affect families and children and so I'm mindful that all of this is relative.
But sometimes, particularly in the moment, it feels insurmountable, exhausting and relentless...two steps ahead and always four backwards.
My five-year old daughter, Claire woke up on day two with high fever and a smoker's hack. For certain, no school and lots of ibuprofen, popsicles and couch time. Moments after my eight-year old daughter, Kate arrived at school, we returned to retrieve her and take her to an emergency dental appointment. An x-ray later, we were contacting a specialist to find the quickest time for an evaluation and possible root canal.
This crazy morning on the heels of communication with my 11-year old son's teacher about a missing assignment, an upcoming project and an impending test. Most of this dialogue was a result of his choice to not be more diligent in writing down assignments and staying on top of his work load.
Somewhere between spilling the only half cup of caffeine I had on my jeans and reassuring my eight-year old that a root canal isn't so bad (what the fuck do I know, I've never had one), I just wanted to keep driving the car to Mexico.
And then, I thought about my life. It's this weirdo juxtaposition of scheduling Kindergarten physicals, reciting the Preamble for my fifth-grader's social studies test, buying groceries, changing bed sheets, referreeing disagreements, chauffeuring kids to piano, football and ballet lessons all the while trying to run as many miles as I can and find outlets for my creative writing pursuits.
Last night, I joined a writer's program that I'm giddy and over-the-moon excited about. It's a 10-week experience that I think is going to catapult me in the right direction and at the very least, keep me accountable and focused in my writing practice.
But as my world shifted this morning and the tide changed more abruptly than I'd expected, I thought...what the fuck? There's no time for this silliness. I mean really, when am I ever going to be a serious anything other than a mom? And at that rate, as a mother, I often feel like I'm just barely floating above the surface.
While I was waiting in the pediatric dentist's lobby, another mom was scarfing down Starbucks, shifting in her seat, checking her phone, holding onto a toddler who had no desire to be confined to the space and she and I both looked at each other with understanding. I said to her, "It's Friday, right?" She smiled and said, "That's what my phone says, but really, is Friday any different than Monday?" And I said, "Not when you're a mom." We weren't angry, we were just truth tellers.
And then it occurred to me, all of it is a mess. The quicker that I can sift through the minutia of daily living; deal with the curve balls of raising unpredictable, beautiful, needy, beyond adorable beings and recognize that I am both a serious and a laughable, imperfect, good enough mess of a woman...the faster that I'll get to the "good enough" place of living...mothering, running, writing and ultimately, just being.
That said, here's to Fridays that just work out. I'm happy today to just be good enough.