This Old Mess

I've just put Fi down for her morning nap--she cried for all of three minutes, and is now solidly off to sleep--my little trooper.  As I walked away from her room, I meandered through the house looking at the things that were strewn about.  Blocks and board books in the living room, rubber ducks and bracelets in the hallway, and broken down cardboard boxes in the kitchen--her new favorite thing to pull out from behind the trashcan and play with.  The yes's of this beautiful mess.  Yes, you can play with the cardboard, yes you can play with my bracelets, yes you can play with your books--I've been released to the "yes's" of life.  I started thinking about being able to say "yes" more often when I talked to a friend a few months before Fi was born.  She has two boys and a foster girl under four, and another one on the way.  I admire the way her and her husband parent very much.  She told me that they try to say yes more often; that they try to make sure they say yes when there is no good reason to say no.  I liked it.  I feel myself sometimes telling Fiona "no" to playing with the cardboard, because I don't want to clean it up later, but it only takes 10 seconds really.  There is no reason to say no then, other than my own selfishness.  I want to say "yes" when I can say yes, where it won't harm her, or tear down her growing character.  I want her to have adventures in cardboard boxes, and play dress-up with regular things, and even eat some sand every once in awhile.  Saying "yes" isn't always easy for me--I am a stickler for having rules--but if there isn't a reason to have a rule, then there's no reason to enforce it either.  And she does SO love playing with that cardboard.  Now I shall say "yes" to coffee on the couch with my Bible.  Good morning!

low, but thankful for you

With receiving really hard, heart-shattering news about the death of a friend first thing Monday morning, it has not been an easy week so far.  I have to admit I have either given in to tv therapy--mindless blocks of time when I don't think at all, or remember, "He's gone," or I have just hugged Fiona hard, and grasped on to every moment I have with her and loving her.  I have prayed so much for his mother, for how she must feel, for his father and siblings.  I can't imagine the pain--I truly cannot.  I only want them to know peace, and hope and pray that he found some too at some point.  I could get angry at the way in which he was taken out of this world, but all I feel is desperate sadness for the state of those people, and what misery they, like him, must have been in to do the things they did.  I pray that some lost, currently messed up others see the terrible headlines of this tragedy, and reconsider how they're living, what they're doing with their lives.    One thing that I have cherished this week is how our group of friends from our younger years have reconnected over this terribleness.  We have remembered the good; remember how much we meant to each other--remembered things that still matter.  I'm so grateful for that.  I'm so grateful for the conversations I've had with my best buddy Jake, and how easy it has been for us to just fall back into our old patterns of speech and friendship.  These people meant the world to me 10 years ago, and now I'm remembering why.  I'm so happy to still know some of them, and to be reconnecting with the others--to see where they are and how they've grown and changed--it makes my heart swell.  That may be the only thing that has given me peace this week.  Thank you friends--for being you--for being "here"--for loving.

failure of a friend

I feel I failed you friend.  We lost you long ago before we lost you short away.  I remember you buying cds with pennies, and laughing in your deep man laugh, and always those blue blue eyes twinkling away.  And yet each time I saw you since our adolescence that twinkle has dwindled, and I didn't know what was causing its ceasing.  Less of a laugh, a bit of a smile, and grimacing through life's hard stumbles.  Oh the crush I had on those big blue eyes in their boyhood--what I wouldn't have done for them--and me being one of many whose allure they drew.  What fantasy of other world's numbness intoxicated you so? Throwing pillows and watching James Bond, and eating much too much of Taco Bell.  Did we not love you well--enough--soon enough?  Could I have caught you and clung and hung on enough for two?  I know I failed you by being a dull and dingy mirror of True Love--I could have showed you how much you meant to Him, but how I failed you friend.  I think of--your terrible cleaning habits and always the self-depricating, over my head humor--you were much to smart for us.  I wish that twinkle had turned into a spark and sparked a fire that blazed brighter than those eyes.  I wish I had heard that voice and knew exactly what to say to make it turn out the right way.  I wish I could have healed it all away.  I miss you friend--I miss you truly--I miss you sadly--I miss you guiltily wondering if I could have changed the ending to a beginning...i'm sorry...so forever endlessly sorry...

Writer's ramble

I feel like I should write today--but honestly nothing is on my mind.  I'm always told to be a better writer I need to write every day, which I don't do really, but here I am, trying to write on a day I've got nothing to say.  The dryer is humming in the background, and the puppies are laying in the streaks of sun coming in from the high windows in our living room.  As I think through my schedule for the next week, my mind blurs slightly.  We have a wedding this weekend, which Dave is in (which means it will be my job to keep the baby quiet for the duration of the service), and Dave's cousin is coming in on Monday to visit for a few days.  I immediately want to jump up and scour the house clean, as that is always my reaction to visits.  Then I want to run to the grocery store (well, obviously not literally run, because I hate running), and stock up the house to make sure they like what they eat while they're here.  Also, I am thinking...I am just a tiny bit nervous that his cousin AND his wife are both doctors, and wonder if they will be silently critiquing my parenting skills.  They are both lovely people, and I'm sure it will be great, but that is in the back of my mind nonetheless (also I think that it is crazy that nonetheless is all one word--it looks weird).

I've decided to take the life guarding class here in a few weeks, which means I have to start swimming laps asap.  The pool just opened today, and I'm more than a little wary that it is going to be chilly--though the aquatics directors swears it's almost 75, or at least it will be while the cover is on.  Also I haven't swam proper laps in at least 10 years--so it is probably gonna suck big time with my lung capacity.  I'm not sure yoga has really kept me up to par on the lung expansion thing, even if my muscles are good.  Soreness is sure to ensue.

Well, that was rather rambling, but it's all I got I think.  Maybe I'll go read a book and be inspired to write something properly.  Adieu!