Monday, February 28, 2011

a WTF kind of Monday

Crappity Crap McCrapperson Crapoliciousness today:

102.3 degree fever. Down one degree after medication. One. Degree. Also a sick babygirl. Add one suspended babyboy. Overwhelmed at work and still had to leave due to illness. Neurology appointment that was not great news after weeks of waiting. Long waits + 3 hungry peeps = grouchy Grouchy GROUCHY. Only distraction from grouch cubed was one phone with terrible battery life. Later having to speak tough words... necessary tough words to a tender soul with a terrible attitude. One big clotty snotty surprise bloody nose. Old Mother Hubbard's cupboards are bare and no energy to shop with this crazy fever. Annoying barky little demon dog that won't let helpers near me when they happen to want to. So. Sick. And. Tired.


Today I was standing in front of the fridge, thinking about opening the door and finding some breakfast food but not really having much of an appetite. I re-read a printout from quite a while back that I think of as my parenting muse. I just happened to notice that it had a url in the upper right corner and the name looked familiar. I popped onto my facebook and sure enough, the writer of those immortal words was one facebook friend click away. Right under my nose. Posting on mutual friends' pages even. So I wrote to her. She wrote back. I have a new facebook friend! One who has unwittingly seen me through SO MANY parenting growth, change, love, let go, breathe Breathe BREATHE moments.

As if that lovely connection and exchange weren't enough, the timing completely blew me away. Just after I walked away from the computer and this connection, I get a call from the school. From the Principal himself...asking me to pick up my boy and keep him for a few days of "reflection" on his choices. Back to the fridge I went. Back to the words, back to the basics, back to the truth of who I strive to be.

A half hour time difference, a day at work instead of home sick, a little shyness instead of fever induced "what the hell" ness and I would be apologizing for reacting from embarrassment over Principal Mr. Willi~yummy~yummy~iams calling about my child's behavior...over fear of how babyboy's dad might find our situation lacking or substandard...over all the multitude of things mainstream society tells me I should feel when my child falls short of their expectations.

A half hour time difference and I wouldn't be able to sit here and tell you how proud I am of how I actually did handle I maintained my love and hope and belief in wrong and right...MINE...and encouraged him to really question if he was acting in ways aligned to his...HIS. How I planted seeds of truth and respect in the rich and fertile soil of his lovely soul. How my intuition is telling me that we're right where we are supposed to, today...this moment, this happening, this opportunity. How we are so separate from one another but so tied by gossamer strands of love tougher than steel.

Also today, negating the crappiness: I was invited to two weekends that sound like absolute heaven...a girls' weekend and a trailer/beach/lightning bug weekend that promises to be all about connecting. My babygirl is now released back into the world of physical activity...softball her Senior year is back on the itinerary. Carl's Jr lettuce wrap with Santa Fe sauce...the only fast food experience I in to it and licking my fingers after. The three musketeers together for a jaunt...with teens this has become rather infrequent. An email friend who never lets me down...who goes out of his way to check and reply...even when it's terribly inconvenient. Two fevered geminis cuddling at every possible juncture. ROSS CHILDRESS PUT OUT A NEW PLAYLIST!!! I bought it. I love it. Youtube has "Music in High Places" which I have wished and wished and wished to get to see made me cry little joy tears watching it. And the best treatment for sickness...couch and movies...movies sent by one of the newest lovelies in my tribe...out of the kindness of his heart.

Overall, love found it's way between crap's cracks.

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