A Calm Moment

We are having a calm moment in our household.  It is our moment to breathe in, look around, and not deal with any crises.

I am grateful that I can enjoy it.

Our little guy has a new doctor who connects with him in a way his psychiatrist could not.  Our Zoloft journey is continuing successfully.  Each day, I see in him less anxiety and more attempts to communicate.

Our sweet girl got some much needed one-on-one time with me last week, and my husband and I celebrated our 18th anniversary yesterday.

As I take my breath, I can see how people get addicted to drama in their lives, though.  In this calm moment, I am needled by the buzzing flies of cultural and personal guilt awareness.  I see all the issues that get pushed aside during the rough spots.

• How can I give back more to my community?
• How can I decrease my carbon footprint?
• How can I eat better and exercise more?
• How can I be a better friend, sister, aunt, mother, teacher, wife, human?
• When the hell am I ever going to finish Anna Karenina?
• Are my teeth as white as they could be?
• Will I ever care about fashion or own a pair of heels?

I see how it would be easy to start complaining; how tempting it would be to look for a cause or an injustice or...any distraction. That is not what I want.   

This is my Life.  It is imperfect, messy, unfashionable, sincere, and has a carbon footprint about a mile wide.  And I will enjoy every blessed minute.

I will not squander this gift of time.  I will not invent problems out of the business of everyday living.

For all of you reading that are in my Life, I thank you from the bottom of my heart and I love you.

Slippery

I had the pleasure today to talk to another momma a little further down the path. It helps me so much to hear about someone else's journey and experiences. A topic that popped up often through the conversation was the idea of acceptance, specifically acceptance for WHO my son is.

I want that very much. I want to accept my handsome little guy for exactly who he is. In fact, I want the same for my daughter, for myself, for my marriage, for my Life...

I feel that acceptance for me is like a slippery fish. I feel like I am rooting around in murky water trying to capture this acceptance. (For the mental picture, envision "River Monsters" instead of "Hillbilly Handfishin'", please.)

I'll think I have it in my hands, holding it almost tangibly. I will be convinced I know what acceptance feels like, what it looks like, the weight of it. Then, it is gone through my fingers, and I am on the side of the road crying to "Born This Way".

I have to admit that I am not sure what the practicality of acceptance looks like...
How many occupational classes do you sign up for if you "have acceptance"?
How much do you dare hope for drastic improvement?
How much speech therapy coaching do we work on at home daily?
How much do I challenge him?
How much do I comfort him?
How much do I give him?
How much do I give in to him?
How much do I require from him?


Usually, I end the blog with my answers and my ideas.  Not this time...