Eleven (and ten) years later, the people we share space with still have a low standard of living. They’re not naturally inclined to look at the devastation in their wakes. I recall the jam-begrimed dining room wall, a line of sweet 3-year-old fingerprints spreading across the cabinets and into the kitchen, where he dipped into his toast again and pranced blueberry fingers across the refrigerator.
i’ve been judging my kids so hard based on their decision to wear the same damn clothes every day until they decide the clothes look or feel bad. and i mean, for one of them, the item has to look really, really bad before they’d consider changing. some weeks, i review pictures and feel so embarrassed because it looks like we either did all of those things in one day (same exact outfit all week) or my kids don’t own any other options (same clothes, new hair).
Our whole week at home, following vacation, we struggled to summon the required energy to make lunches + get out the door. When we did, we liked it. Mostly, though, we didn’t, completing many forgotten home projects + enjoying rearranging + cleaning our daily spaces around here.
Sometimes it’s mutual comfort. Both of our cats and our dog (occasionally) enjoy petting, and the lone gerbil adores attention all day long, from anyone. I used to sit on a fence rail and pet horses to calm down after a hard day, too.
We managed to avoid the afternoon thunderstorms that plagued us last year, and spent 8-9 hours outside every day. Coming home after that to iPads and video games feels like a letdown to me. The kids are super excited for online play, where I’m ready to move to the woods!
i’ve always felt admirably calm in crises. trained in first aid + cpr, i handled my own kid’s ER trips with urgency + an unruffled air, despite pooling blood or a backward arm. but how i fell apart then – both slowly depleting as i read read read plus the immediate surfeit of fear + dread – felt new. sorrowful. and its been difficult to creep back from its many edges.
I will always love outdoor concerts more, but this AJR event was so exactly what we needed too. The kids’ first official concert that wasn’t bringing a blanket somewhere to ostensibly listen to music near a playground.
Strange, but I somehow managed to NOT photograph most of our week. It’s like I took off my photography hat – or it accidentally blew away. I certainly didn’t plan it. But here we are, without much to show for much of our forays. Oh well… Next week?
I have six more trips planned this year, and I’m willing to bet my tent that not a single one goes as expected. Whatever their independent failures, I always come away happy. Why? The simplest of things, always.