First, I can't identify a venue large enough and cheap enough (where cheap=free). I'd love to throw a big Halloween Party, but for hundreds of people, we might need to be outside, which is unreliable weather-wise. I'm stumped.
Secondarily, I (finally) acknowledged that I need to do less.
This year we got two life-changing diagnoses. Aria as you know, has cancer. Lyric, as you might guess, has her own stuff going on.
She's been labeled "twice exceptional" or 2e--- a euphemism, in her case, for being 1) a lot smart and 2) a little nutty. Ahead intellectually, but behind emotionally (ADHD+Anxiety).
The 2e combo makes moving to public school all sorts of unfun at times. I miss her Montessori terribly.
And because there was not enough uncertainty at our house, my company's health also continues its downward spiral.
(I'm really bringing you down now, aren't I. It's ok, it gets better.)
So, as Kevin mulls new job opportunities, I was writing business plans, hoping one would emerge as a viable start-up for one of my ever-circulating ideas.
But then, as it turned out, I'm not Wonder Woman. This was a genuine let down.
I can't have a secret identity as a brilliant, creative successful entrepreneur while living my daily life as a calm and engaged mommy who works full-time, carts her kids to chemotherapy and social skills groups, remembers medication regimens and schedules that change weekly, and doesn't damage her kids by having her own daily tantrum.
So, nope, I'm not SuperMom or whatever BusinessWeek is calling us this week. I can't do it all. This bummed me out. A lot. I know actual people who do all these things. I felt like a failure.
Until I played hooky with Lyric.
We took off last Friday from school and work and just played together outside. For hours, it was just us playing tag, fort-building, hide and seek, tree climbing and sitting in secret hideouts. I haven't felt so much myself for far too long.
I miss northern California, being wonderfully overwhelmed by nature. I miss hanging out with someone and just being.
I admit that in the past 18 months, I've started a lot, finished little, and mostly shortchanged my kids, who need more of me than I was willing to give.
Now I spend as much time as I can trying to be mentally where I am physically, and trying to be in as few places as possible.
Oh, whatarelief it is. Everyone is notably happier, calmer, focused and kind. 'Cause it's true that when momma aint happy, aint nobody happy.
A writer I follow started posting three things she's grateful for each day. I might start, too. It's much too easy to brush over the good things that seem small, and dwell on the hard things that seem huge, when almost exactly the opposite is typically true.
