LEAVE THE LIGHTS ON!!! STOP!!!! I am SO tired of you turning off the LIIIIGHTS!!!, I yell a little louder and a lot angrier than necessary. Greyson's face scrunched up in sadness and confusion. My volume and anger scared him. He was just doing something he loves- turning off the lights. Real tears sprang forth and I instantly felt crushed. Let down by myself.
He's 4. I'm his world. His constant. His mom and his buddy.
I instantly get down on my knees. I'm so sorry. I don't like you touching the lights but I shouldn't have told you that way. I love you.
I will do better tomorrow. Robot Mom never short circuits, but human Mom totally does. I forgive me. I wish the days ended like a TV show. Van Morrison blasts in the background, and the world falls into place just right. We forgive ourselves for our imperfections. For our impatient moments. We practice gratitude and abundance like it's a cottony cloud of hope for tomorrow.
My best parenting advice? Sometimes I think it's best to put the books away. The books on pregnancy and babies and nursing and sleep schedules and development and sleep. While you're at it- the books on autism and ADD and any kind of Super Powers- if you're reading them- feeling sad and scared and overwhelmed- it's okay to hide those for awhile too. There's plenty of time to become an expert on those things.
Goodnight Moon and I Love You Forever and any Shel Silverstein and The Giving Tree, anything Dr. Suess- read more of those. I think the best parenting books I've read are more for me, my heart, my soul, my perspective. Like Bloom, by Kelle Hampton. Kelle has a heart made of Unicorns, glitter, hope and the most unconditional of capital L love- and she encourages us to not simply accept the unexpected circumstances in Life, but to embrace as if we had picked them just for us.
I've yet to find barely anything in parenting that is one size fits all. People are not one size fits all. Autism is soooo not one size fits any. I think it's so much less about details and circumstance and so much more about perspective. It's so much more about doing what feels right- and if something feels really wrong- it's probably not a good idea.
I overheard a Mom the other day, talking about her babies development. Scared to death she wasn't doing enough tummy time with her daughter. Scared she wasn't intellectually challenging her child. She started quoting some study cited in an article she read. I had to get up and move. I needed to stop myself from saying, It doesn't fricking matter! None of it! That crazy stuff we get ourselves worked up over isn't real. The books can't tell you what kind of Mom to be. All that is hard wired into your heart and head. The books aren't the answer. You are the answer. And even if you do every single thing the book says, it's not foolproof. A lack of tummy time isn't going to stop your baby from growing a developing perfectly. It's not going to stop autism or guarantee success. At the end of the day- it doesn't matter. The babies won't remember many of the specifics, but they will remember a Mom who listened to her heart and felt like calm.
And books are like Google. You can find anything. Try it- Google Why is cows milk is bad for you? Then ask Google, Why is it important to drink milk? You can always find information to support a specific way of thinking. Find a few close friends that you trust. Friends who handle Life in a way you respect. Ask them. But most importantly- ask yourself. What feels right to you?
I read the books with Grey. Not cuckoo banana style- but a few. I chucked them with Parker. I was so much more laid back and confident and happier too.
Friends, I can't believe it- but we may just be able to do this Halloween thing.
He kept them on for five whole minutes.
Fascinated.
Halloween- I guess everything is about perspective. I think it's going to be a good one.
Today we had not one, but TWO one hour Speech Therapy sessions for Parker, and one for Grey.
It's funny, Parker thinks he goes to Speech to play, and because of that- he does. Sometimes I wanna be just like Parker. I like his outlook. I'm certain he didn't learn that from a book.
Life...It's like a mosaics table. Each piece coming together in its own time, only when it fits. You can't shove a piece in if it isn't right. You can't put in stone number one hundred- if you haven't done the first 99. Simple moves can't really be predicted or planned. You just keep trying to see what fits where. The result is pretty amazing.
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Do you care if we get our holiday fricking pictures taken Monday right before sunset? I ask Michael with a scoul.
Uh...sure? He says. Although it didn't really sound like a question, he adds.
I guess I wasn't really asking him if he wanted to go because I don't want to go. But I need to know I at least tried.
The thing is, last year's not one, but TWO- trying to get the perfect Christmas card photos were an absolute bust. Even the candids were a moving, messy, blurry mess. On purpose photos are impossible in our family. When Greyson would look at the camera- Parker wouldn't.
And vice versa. Every single time. We tried lying down. Bust.
They wouldn't sit.
So then we followed them around- hoping if they called the shots their faces would remain happy. Then they wouldn't stand in the same frame. If we held them- one of them would buck to get down, screaming and unhappy. Bribery, candy, bubbles and bells didn't work. The kids hated it. I hated it. Michael hated it. Michael and I got into a fight after he threw Parker into the air to get a smile, and hit Parker's head on an awning. We both went home a sweaty mess. 400 pictures, all a bust.
This time I will try drugging. Me, not them. Fingers crossed. I'll let you know how it goes.
Most People don't fall into autism teaching. Once I become aware- I realized there are many powerful jobs that most people just don't fall into. They are usually rugged, demanding, powerful, hard as hell jobs. Oncology. Victims right advocates. Counselors. Super Power Teachers. Many people are following an inner voice...some trying to right a wrong- within themselves or in the universe. Everyone has a story. A beautiful, painful, unique, awesome story. I think Teachers that work with kids with Super Powers have Super Powers of their own.
I vaguely remember the first time he flapped. Greyson. He was in awe over a candy table at a birthday party. It was awesome. I thought it was a sweet little Greyson thing to do. He starts out slow, a little flutter. And the more amazement he feels, the more he takes flight. Jumping and flapping is his own interpretive dance.
And it started to occur more often. Different things would set him off. Wheels. Steam from the rice cooker. Water beading down the shower door. Construction sites. On occasion moments of frustration during Speech Therapy or Behavior Therapy, but mostly places that set his soul wild. The Manager in his Behavior therapy program made note of this occurrence during a home visit.
When did he start flapping his arms like that? she asked concerned.
And soon I realized it was a Spectrum thing, not a Greyson thing. They made verbal corrections at the first hint of the slightest flap.
Greyson- Hands down. Quiet hands.
And if he was sitting, Greyson, hands on knees.
Quiet hands? I don't understand. Hands can't make noises. And I would hear it over and over again. Clearly flapping was something to be avoided, as important as keeping Greyson out of traffic and recognizing when we called his name.
Greyson, HANDS DOWN! I would declare, modeling his instructors. His flapping was like an announcement to the world. I am austic. I didn't want him to label himself that way. But the truth was I probably didn't want him to label me that way too. I didn't want you to see my perfect and precious boy and have your first thought be autism. I wanted it to be Greyson.
And one day I realized, all that matters is what I think, what I see. Seeing his goodness first-- must start with me.
And after time, I began to accept what was. My boy is a swirl of many things, part of which is hand flapping. My boy communicates with his eyes and his hands.
His sweet little still dimpled baby hands. They talk to me. They tell me amazing things. they tell me beautiful things. They tell me funny things. Instead of silencing them- I now celebrate them.
This morning I had Physical Therapy at 7am. That's practically midnight. At 6am I hit snooze. My bed was warm and cozy and the dogs were snoring and happy. Getting up to go do exercise was unbearable. Outside was pitch black out and cold. I don't know how you morning birds do it. You can have all the worms.
After therapy I was proud and relieved. As I drove home I was blown away by the bustle and activity. The sky was glorious art, cleared by the recent rain.
Tears and rain leave everything a little clearer. The boys still had about 20 minutes before therapy. I needed them to see what I could see. I ran in the front door to find Doodle watching TV.
Parker, Mommy is home! He didn't turn or flinch. He didn't know I was there. Inches from his face, and he still didn't know. Sometimes I feel like a ghost. I double check my reflection in the mirror to make sure I still exist. Sometimes autism takes them somewhere far away.
He was so sweet and adorable and squishy- and I broke into his World and scooped him up. Grey didn't want to come with me- so Doodle and I bolted.
My little cow out to pasture.
Yes, this is exactly what I needed to see. Parker and the big strong mountains and foothills. Something about the Ocean and the Mountains reminds me that we are so small and our problems are so manageable.
I hope these words reminds you of that too. So glad you are here with me.
Love,
Chrissy
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How would you describe yourself as a Mother? This is not a hypothetical--this is a sit and ponder with me. I will pour you some coffee, or hot coco if you are reading at night.
What words float to the top? What adjectives describe you? (even if you are not a Mom- do play along Friend).
Does it change the tune of your song if I tell you- you can only use good, happy, shiny words in your description? I hope not. Because I want to tell you, you are amazing. You are beautiful and sometimes impatient and imperfect...but that doesn't for one second change your amazingness.
And maybe it's too hard for you to fluff your own pillows. But answer me this...How do we teach our children they are amazing and enough, to focus on the good and have self-confidence if we can't show them by example? I think it's time we focused on the can do. Screw the cant's. So, sometimes you lose your patience, sometimes you are crabby and fall short and feel like not enough. Sometimes dinner comes from a drive through. That's all of us. That's part of it. It's not IT though. It doesn't negate everything else that is good and tiny and big and intimate and sacred.
And all of this thinking came from this beautiful tidbit of soul candy.
A New Perspective For Moms from Elevation Church on Vimeo.
What kind of Mom am I? Good words only... It is hard, but here it goes.
I love so big and so loud that sometimes it's painful. I love the small things so very much that they are the big things after all. Noticing their feet, or their sparkle, or wiping their nose is my Religion...my honest prayer. I am grateful, expressive, loud, brave, scared, adventurous and kind. I don't give up. I try new things. I was born to do this.
This is the greatest app EVER.
You can customize it with your own pictures and voice. It was a breakthrough for Greyson a couple of years ago and instrumental in teaching him expressive & receptive languge, and I forgot all about using it for Parker until a couple of weeks ago.
He LOVES reviewing the flash cards I made using pictures I took. He has to touch it to advance to the next card, and the interaction keeps him engaged. You don't need to have a fancy camera- you can take them straight from your cell phone. And after just a few days Parker started consistently making sounds that approximate the word on the card. Dog= Gaw, Juice=Jew, Ball= Baw.
This is how it works: He says a word(ish) and I scream I am so excited!!! He thinks it's the funniest thing.
What about you, why are you a good (Mom/Dad/Teacher/Human/Dog)?
Today- send a note to a Mother friend of yours for absolutely no reason at all. Something to the ditty of- I see you Mom'ing, and no one is better than you at ______. I like the way you ______.
This morning we woke up to cool rain. Amazing for sleeping, but not amazing for the scheduled school field trip to an AMAZING pumpkin patch 30 minutes away. CANCELLED. It was a kink in our plans.The boys were crushed. Okay, fine- the MOM was crushed. The boys had no clue where we were or were not going. And to make this trip happen I had to rearrange the moon. Cancel Speech therapy, reschedule for Wednesday (which means Parker now has 2 one hour sessions of Speech on Wednesday- one in the morning, one in the late afternoon), reschedule Physical Therapy for me (for 7am tomorrow!!! SEVEN!!!!), and arrange for Parker's Behavior Therapist to join us.
And after the rain cleared up we decided to head out for a little adventure. We only had time to go to the pumpkin patch down the street from our house....which we've already been to twice.
I don't want to go there...I've already been there twice, and the rides don't even start until 3pm, I whined inside my head. I wanted to go to the fancy pumpkin patch, I pouted.
Melty Doodle.
And within seconds of leaving the car, Grey's JOY was leaking everywhere.
The boys would be perfectly happy if we came here daily. Every time we go they find something new and wonderous to focus on. They find the amazing amongst the everyday. They reminded me- that skill is a pretty big key to finding happiness in Life. Thanks for the lesson boys.
We had the whole place to ourselves. At one point Greyson just froze instantly. He was spellbound. Unmoving. Sometimes he sees things, amazing things that I can not see. But today I followed his gaze up, not expecting to see anything, but for once, I could see it too.
I could see it too. I tear up- just typing that. And I squealed with delight, watching him watch the world. Delight in the fact that I could see it too. His body came alive.
I'm easing into Halloween. Some holidays scare me a little, make me feel a little sad. The kid holidays are so different than I expected, and it still shocks me that I haven't figured out how to box that up and make it feel better yet. The other day the boys' therapists asked if we wanted to playscheme Halloween for the boys. Have them dress up and practice going to houses and Trick or Treating. And the truth is, I haven't gotten their costumes yet. And I feel bad about making them do something they hate- that isn't functional. And forget about masks or hats or anything on their face. And then I get so mad at myself, for getting so sad.
And I will find my way. I will consult my How to Parent Super Powers Manual to see what it suggests. We will Tim Gunn it baby. Make it work. And I remind myself- it's okay to be sad. You are still trying to figure this Life out. We all have our kinks. The problem is when we let the kinks stop the flow.
Time to go to bed. 7am will be here any second.
XOXO,
Chrissy
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Getting out of the house in the morning is its own special brand of torture. Ten minutes before we had to leave this morning, Greyson was still running around naked. Screaming every time I got near him with clothes. Parker still in jammies. How do I do this every time? I ask myself with a grrrr. I look up to see Greyson excitedly jumping and flapping at the liquid puddle on our hard wood floor. Liquids certainly have magical properties in Spectrumville, unseen by the typical eye.
GREYSON!!! Pee in toilet!!! Pee goes in toilet!!!
And after a spontaneous half assed mop job, I get both boys into the car. The clock reads 9am. The exact time we are supposed to actually be arriving at Behavior Therapy, still 20 minutes away. I finally arrive and drop off the boys, 11 minutes before I am to arrive at Physical Therapy. I notice Parker is without shoes. Opps. And then I drive with hands tightly clutching wheel towards Physical Therapy, so I can quickly go back to Behavior Therapy for each boys' monthly status meeting.
Boy, I bet you're busy- a nice gentleman said to me today. Yes, I sure am. But almost everyone is busy. We just are busy doing different busy things. Which is the truth. I'm not nearly as busy as my boys.
If only the mornings occurred in the afternoon instead...maybe I would have a chance.
When I learned it was called autism I instantly shattered into a million sharp pieces all over the ground. And as I would take in deep breaths and try to regroup, I would remember specific painful future memories, and it would cut me all over again. What if he never falls in love? Who will love him when I die? I know someone will take care of him, but who will love him this much? Will he ever call me Mom? Will he ever make a real friend? Will life always be this hard for him? And I cut my cuts open again and again on these thoughts as I walked over the slivers that must have been hiding in the corners. Shattered me and shattered dreams. After the glass shatters, no matter how much you sweep and mop and vacuum, there are always slivers left to cut.
And you heal, ever so unbearably slowly. And you move forward, and sometimes back. You stop hanging around with people who don't get it or care to get it. You reinvent yourself and your life. You learn more. You cope. You live. You breathe in color that in turn exhales into your stark world of black and white. And it's never alright, not in the sense of alright you had known in your past life. You just have to find a new and different alright.
Last weekend we went to a wedding. As the beautiful bride and groom entered the reception room, their names were announced... And for the first time ever, let's welcome- Mr& Mrs... And without thinking or realizing or rationalizing- I stepped on a hidden shard of glass I thought I had swept away. I started to cry. Stubborn tears, more forthcoming than a sneeze, no stopping them.
Greyson or Parker will never get married. They will never have this moment.
It's like you can actually feel your heart bleeding in these moments. And you may say to me- You don't know that! He can still accomplish anything! Or, His future will be bright and amazing - and all of those things can very well be true- but they can never overpower the force and the spontaneity of the shards of glass that get left behind.
Late last night I went downstairs to grab something from the kitchen. I kept all the lights off. When I first got down the stairs it was so dark I couldn't see a thing. I couldn't even see my hand waving across my face. I wasn't sure how I was going to make it back up the stairs and down the hall. And slowly, I began to make out shapes and outlines. And then even colors and shades. And my eyes got used to it. Our bodies and minds find a way to get used to it. Whatever it may be. We may always be in the dark. But only in the dark can you discover how beautiful the dark can be.
I think many of us reach crossroads in our lives. Some subtle, some out loud. I think we can go either way after that. These times, few of us remain in the middle. If your mother or father was an alcoholic- maybe you barely touch booze because you saw what it did and that scares you. Or maybe you became an alcoholic too, because its what you saw and what you know. Maybe you grew up in a family that never said, I love you. They never had real talks, everything was surface. And some people use that pain and the hope for something more, and explode love into their own family. They break that painful cycle because they saw what it could do and they believed in something more. But there are some people that stay right there. They say they don't know better, they only know what they were taught. They never change.
I don't know what makes someone make the hard decision to fully participate in life, complete with all its challenges, to do the hard work and make a change, and what makes some people keep doing exactly the same? Why do some people break the cycle and some don't? I really don't know.
But I see the importance of doing the hard work and making the right choices. Choices to be happy and healthy. And because of that, I won't let autism crush me. It's not about me- it's about my boys and about what I can do to make their life exceptional. Kids feel these things and know these things and then become these things. They are reflections of us.
I hope I teach them to make the best out of life.
I hope I teach them to get dirty and to explore.
I hope I teach them to make many, many mistakes. I hope I teach them that not trying again- after a mistake, is the only mistake they can make. I hope to teach them to keep trying, keep swimming, keep growing. Always.
I hope I teach them to clean up what they dirty, and to leave the World a better place.
They teach me to do what my heart says, without a fear of looking silly or being different.
And the truth is, I would take the autism away in a second, but I can't. Sometimes I get cut by a piece of glass that remained. When you love someone this much, how can you not?
But more often, I feel purpose and love and an honestly and kindness and truths about the world and about myself that I never knew existed before. I'd rather focus on that. I'd rather start to see in the dark.
Love,
Chrissy
I am on FACEBOOK. Come over in your jammies and say hi.
Tonight I high-fived Fall by whipping up a little Pumpkin Chili. A perfect dinner for this time of the year. Zesty and amazing, just the right amount of sweet and spice.
And since I was feeling creative and chef-like already, I ventured out further and created a Salmon, Arugula and Cherry Tomato Linguine.
But the accomplishment I am MOST proud of today is the fact that I FINALLY put together my little writing nook, where I can create and share these words with you.
And now as I sit here and type, I am positive of one single thing...
Pictures lie. Don't get me wrong- sometimes they absolutely tell the truth, but never ever forget they also have the ability to be nothing more than our own mental creations of what we think is happening. Of course I didn't do any of those things today! But yesterday's post about the amazing, cooktastic, craftastic, organic fabulous Mom got me thinking... And looking for the pictures (on Pinterest!) made me realize something. It's important, you may want to write this one down...
Some of our gifts can't be photographed
Pictures just don't do it justice. They doesn't mean they don't exist. Some people are amazing at taking care of people. They show up during hard times with cookies and love and lasagna and leave you left remembering you are never alone. Some people are good listeners, they pay attention, without thinking about what they are going to say next. They don't look at their phone or try to remember if they paid their utilities bill this month while you are sharing your heart.
Some people are amazing empathetics. They feel so much that it kind of hurts sometimes. If they haven't walked in your shoes, they try them on. They don't say the wrong, stupid, insensitive thing ever. Because they have been able to imagine, for a second, what it's like. They are the person at the birthday party- that sees you frazzled. They feel the sad in your eyes. They touch your arm and without being too suffocating or weird- gently ask, Everything okay? With enough love in their eyes to make you actually suddenly be okay for reals.
So, even if they aren't Pinterest-y or picture worthy, we all have them. Our brilliant gifts. Every single one of us. I've never met anyone without a gift. Sometimes it takes a while to find them, but they usually rise to the surface. They can't be hidden forever. Some people can't find their own gifts, because they are too busy doubting and noticing which gifts aren't theirs. But however we are right now is enough. Our gifts are exactly enough just the way they are.
I'm a good Mom. That's one of my gifts. Not because I clean or cook or can decorate worth a crap, but because I love my boys. Exactly the same amount but in a million different ways.
I loved picking Grey up from his typical preschool experience. Today was the first time I walked in and he was comfortably sitting in the circle with the other kids. My face hurts from smiling so big.
It's often really, really hard for him to be there, but today- I couldn't even tell.
My little home skillet NEVER wears hats. His Special Ed shadow was so excited to show me this one!!!!
Teacher Amber's gift is speeching. I'm constantly amazed by the people who teach our babies. Here Amber is using a tactile prompt (a grape flavored wooden stick) to facilitate an open mouth position. Parker has a harder time making ahhh and ohhhh sounds versus closed mouth positions, like duh or bah. Today he did AMAZING at attempting to repeat the write words and sounds. It doesn't usually sound like it's supposed to sound like- but it is consistent and at least a part of it sounds right. (Dee- drink. Baaawww- ball).
I haven't run in months. Days and days and days that suddenly turned into months. This hasn't happened since I started running about 17 years ago. I will always remember 39 as the year I broke. I hope 40 is the year I get fixed, but that's too far in the future to think about.
And it's hard. It's still hard not running. That's where I always leaked my crazy. Running is what reminded me I was strong and capable. Running helped me deal with that unhealthy feeling that my body will never be just right. But a few months ago, after the headaches and shoulder pain, my knee started to give out. Some days were hard and some were unbearable. The days I could walk free of pain made me grateful. The days that walking made me wince made me angry. And the past few months I've had MRI's and blood work-- looking for Lupus or Rheumatoid Arthritis or blood disorders. And I am happy and relieved and grateful that they found none. They think I just have Osteoarthritis. I have really crappy joints and combined with years of running I just started to unravel. Gray hair, arthritis, and two new zits when I woke up today. Teenager or Grandma? Identity crisis.
And at first not running was unbearable. I wanted to claw my skin off. I couldn't organize my thoughts or rationalize my fears. My heart would pound and I had no where to get it out. All of it.
I remember talking to my trusted therapist in LA, Bonnie. Despite the fact that she had a slew of initials behind her name- she still went by just Bonnie. I liked that about her. She asked me what I did for me- to fill me up. I mentioned running or reading or taking a long bath or buying something new.
Uh huh... She said, her eyes intent, her pencil still on the yellow legal pad she held in her lap. I knew when I gave the right answer the pencil would explode with kinetic energy.
Uhhh, I get a massage? A mani pedi? I told her, all things I regularly did.
And how does that make you feel when you do those things? She asked.
Hmmm. Good? Relaxed?
Yes, good. That's good. And how long does it last?
Ahhh... Ah ha. Not. Very, I realized.
And together Bonnie and I dove into waters deeper, looking for things that filled holes bigger and darker that you pick color ever could. And I started to explore my insides with no map. And sometimes that's scary- because maybe there was a part of me afraid that there was just maybe nothing there? And some of those lessons I still hold in my pocket today.
Running is good, but it's temporary. Sometimes it helps me, but sometimes it masks what I need to be feeling. And ever so slowly, I am feeling my feelings. And sometimes it's really hard. Sometimes I am desperate to run them out instead of feeling them out. But I know there are lessons for me to learn in this time of in between. And the faster I learn them, the quicker I can move on.
Do you know what fills me? I like helping people to be okay. I need it in my blood. Trying new things fills me up. Messily, imperfectly, courageously trying new things. I want to be a story teller. True stories. I need to tell the truth, it's not a want. I want to talk about real and honest and sometimes imperfect things and feelings and share the dusty little nooks in the unexplored corners of my mind. I need to feel and share and laugh and cry. Often. A good cry. A sad cry. An honest cry.
It's easy to forget what fills those deeper waters and bigger dreams. And it's crazy to me now...painfully outrageously wondrously crazy...that writing this blog helps me be and do all those things. Thanks.
What do you do to fill up you? I'd love for you to tell me. And if you don't want to share it- that's okay, I understand. But make sure you at least take time to figure out the answer.
Catch you at the end of tomorrow.
Love,
Chrissy
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Do you ever get writer's block? Occasionally people will ask.
And the answer to that is absolutely. All the time. What do I do? I just pick up my computer and start typing. It's like warming my muscles up for exercise. Sometimes, the words start to flow. Sometimes they still feel stuck, but at least I tried. That's all I ask of my children- at least give it a shot. If you try it and suck, at least you tried.
Just get out your colors and paint. See what you come up with.
And painting was a great opportunity to work on, I want and colors. Which color should I open next, Grey?
I want deeeean. He often points to his eye when he says I. He thinks that's what I'm looking for him to do. He has yet to have an a-ha moment with language. He repeats what he needs to repeat to get what he wants.
Painting was an activity that Doodle was happy to join in on.
Today I started hard core physical therapy, no restrictions. I had a brand new chart. I love fresh new beginnings.
Here are some before and afters. Don't I have the prettiest inside shoulder?
I did all my exercises. My amazing therapist, Paul, was working the crap out of my shoulder. Stretching and awakening muscles and joints and spaces that are angry and frightened and trying to hide. At times I saw stars.
How many weeks ago did you have this done again? He asked.
11 days, I told him.
Man, you are amazing. I can't believe you can handle this. Are you sure this is okay? Tell me if this is too much. I've honestly never met anyone like you. You are crazy!
The past year has been beautiful yet excruciating. It taught me that I can handle any amount of physical pain that Life brings me. I can do whatever it takes to get the job done. If I'm supposed to heal- then I'm gonna be the best damn healer you've ever met. There's nothing that compares to the pain and ache that my heart has felt from emotional pain though. That kind of pain is unbearable. That kind of pain is a whole 'nother story. Sometimes you can't fix that kind of pain. You just learn how to live with it and you move forward. It always hurts, you just find a place to keep that hurt.
And new beginnings when anything is possible are exciting. Endings- when everything has been accomplished is my favorite. But there are a million, trillion middles for every one beginning and every one end. It's the in between that often gets to me. That pesky middle. The boring, seemingly unglamourous in between. We learn the most during that in between though. That's when the hard work happens- smack dab in the middle. That's when we grow and change and bloom and get to use all of our brilliant colors. That's where most of us lie most of the time. In the middle. So we better make it good...So I try to get used to it.
Glad you're in the middle with me. Time to go ice. My shoulder has a headache from getting its butt kicked today.
Last thing. Somehow today I stumbled upon the most amazing blog. The Mom has her own organic farm. And she cooks. A ton. And bakes. And cans things- like VEGETABLES, not Pringles. And PS- Her kids EAT those vegetables. And she is CRAFTASTIC with her perfect children. And she can PAINT. More than squiggles. And she takes amazing pictures. And she COOKS. I know I already mentioned that part- but it's worth mentioning twice. And at first I was all dreamy and happy looking at her pictures, imagining myself all Little House on the Prairie and doing that stuff too- and then I started to feel amazingly inadequate. Because I do mostly none of that stuff. And I had JUST been feeling so proud of myself for cooking two nights in a row until I saw this damn blog. And then I started to get mad at this lady I don't even know. So I want to remind you, I am doing YOU, yes YOU a HUGE favor. I am just being the fabulous, confused, kind but sometimes jealous, non-cooking, in the middle mediocre ME. Nothing intimidating about that! You never have to come here to feel bad about yourself. Isn't that an amazing service completely free of charge to you- my wonderful Friend?!
You are welcome!!!
Love,
Chrissy
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