perfect...

Dear Reade,

I am a one woman comedy fest of errors right now. A perfect storm of shit and spills and chaos. I know parenting life isn't primarily consumed by these kinds of days, but the last few days have been...

Perfect.

Really.

Really?

Really.

After washing blueberry smoothie off the floor, myself and then the ceiling I went racing downstairs to deal with Boy-o's "catastrophe." "Mama, it's really bad." And I found the unplugged telephone (the one I leave unplugged so that the kids don't cut us off from the outside world) off the hook. Girlie followed us downstairs leaving a trail of liquid poop in her wake. All over the plastic straws the children spilled earlier. All over the single carpeted space in our entire home. After I cleaned her up and washed the carpet and cleaned up the kitchen floor and threw away the straws -- with the help of my very helpful children...ugh -- I asked Boy-o to come wash his hands. Instead he picked up the organic dehydrated cane sugar and stuck his hand in the bag.

We're out of laundry detergent. Ditto eggs, black tea, and straws. :) Also dehydrated cane sugar now.

We seem to have no shortage of shit though.

It took a good hour into the movie I was watching tonight before I realized that I was clenching my teeth. Do you think? Am I a little tense?

I'm working on relaxing. It has been a crazy few days. Boy-o got sick in the night on Thursday. You had day surgery on Friday. The car inexplicably stopped working while you were out running errands. You headed off to class. Girlie and I got sick by lunch time on Saturday. I was supposed to preach Sunday for the first time in more than a year and a half and had to cancel (guilt free!) on account of puke-and-pooping-sickness. Last night in the middle of the night you got sick. And then today with the blueberries, straws, poop, laundry and the normal spills of milk and water and tea.

Today's episodes are just more in a long line of crazy things all coming together perfectly at the same time.

And I'm about to eat my first meal (aside from broth, apple sauce and water) since Friday. Just the thought simultaneously makes me salivate and want to throw up. Having carefully prepared this bit of leftovers I took one bite and lost my spoon in the bottom of the pot.

I'm getting another spoon. I'm eating some soup. Then I'm going to bed.

Our next scheduled "perfect" weekend is three years from now. Once it gets closer I might be feeling wistful. Without recording this in an archive I might crazily decide to bump up the next occurrence of a weekend of perfection. Who knows?

:)

Love to you,
Jenn

P.S. This is the reality of our day on only one level. People who I could not have got along without talked to me a various points throughout the day and made the difference between me being a slave in the midst of a crumby day and being able to laugh at the craziness of it all. I am so grateful for friends, for family (and that laundry detergent!) and for being in an entirely different head space than I was a year ago. Raise a piece of toast or a wine glass (depending on which end of the day you are at) to grace and the grandness of life.

To life!

Cold

Dear Reade,

When our little girl went outside to get in the car this morning, all she could say was "Cold. Cold. Cold." And it occurred to me that last winter she always got bundled in a bucket car seat with a blanket and all the coziness we could muster. When we went out to "play" she was always snuggled right next to my body, wrapped up in a sling inside my coat.

Poor thing. I know that given a few weeks she'll decide that she would rather go ice skating than hide her head under her wing, but I'm feeling sympathy for her in these days of adjustment.

Love, Jenn

A lickin'

Dear Reade,

The smile on my face spread from ear to ear as I watched you play with our children while I made supper. "Give us a lickin' Daddy!" they trilled with delight, running away, shrieking. With no fear, total openness to playing run, chase, and a wet sloppy lick as the high point, they seek you out and delight in your presence.

I am so grateful that our children are not afraid of physical punishment in the regular everyday moments of their lives. "Lickings" and "being beaten" are a part of their physical play, not of punitive action. They love to be licked. They love to race and especially to have mama and daddy be beaten. They have no sense that there might be sadness in those words for other children. That other children, asking for "lickings" or tickling to stop might not find their request respected. Might not find themselves respected.

Thank you for being the kind of daddy who respects your children, who respects me, your wife.

I am so grateful for you.

Love, Jenn

School today

Dear Jenn,

Aargh! I've neglected my econometrics too much and now it's going to be a bear to catch up. I'm pretty sure I can but it won't be fun at all. Who am I kidding? Even keeping up with it assiduously it wouldn't really be fun.



Jenn, you were right to snort with derision (well not really derision) when I said I found it impossible to get any work done at home. That's really self evident. The real problem is that I don't want to spend any time at school unless I absolutely have to.

Love Reade

Sent from my BlackBerry® Tour wireless handheld

Strange morning

Dear Jenn,

I'm at school and should be studying but I couldn't seem to concentrate. I didn't know why at first. Maybe if I write a bit.



It's been a strange morning. Last night I read about a 22 month old being hit by a car in north Regina. It was kind of freaky because Gella's about the same age and she runs onto the road if she gets a chance. I quickly moved on to other news.



Then this morning you wake me to tell me that Noah was hit by a car and died this morning. I couldn't really take it in. I read about it last night and now it's someone I know. I remember Noah in the nursery at church. I remember his dedication. I wondered if we had any pictures of his dedication but I don't recall.



I suppose Noah's passing just attunes me to my own children's fragility. They're strong, healthy and clever but they're mortal. Somehow school pales in comparison to these things.



Love Reade

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Tuesday, 14th of September

Dear Jenn,

Sitting in my economics of sports and am struck by the opportunity costs of taking classes. I'm not at home with my family which is very costly to me. Ni's first non-abstract picture ever was pretty cool. I'm glad I was home for that but, of course, there's all the things I do miss. Things that I won't even hear about until it comes up in conversation. Gella's new words etc.



Well the prof is looking to get ready and phones are verbotin in class so...



Reade

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School

Dear Jenn,

So sitting and waiting for my econ of sports class to start. Listening to the banter I think we have a bunch of kinesiology students in the class. They're going to be a bit disappointed in it I think. It's actually an economics class and not a sports class.

I'm hoping that we talk a bit about the new stadium they're thinking of putting up here in Regina.

Class is about to begin. The whiskered prof has arrived.

Reade

Sent from my BlackBerry® Tour wireless handheld