Onward into the rest of today

Some mornings I just want to curl up into a ball and cry.

It could be that the mood was started late last night when I once again realized that I had completely spaced Gleek’s art lessons. These are the same art lessons that two weeks ago I realized really are emotionally important to Gleek and so should be high on my Things to Remember list. But then everyone was sick and the days got all muddled and I forgot about the significance of Tuesday until after 10 pm. Granted, I’d spent the afternoon taking Kiki to the doctor for an ear infection and back pain. Then there had been dinner and the management of much make-up homework with accompanying crying. Then bedtime when Gleek once again complained of being too creeped out to sleep. This indicator speaks of an un-met emotional need, one I’d hoped to address by prioritizing her art lessons to the top of the list. I was busy all afternoon and evening with important and urgent things. My mental glitch was understandable, but that doesn’t make it acceptable.

Then this morning Patch was not all better. He was sniffling and coughing and laying limply on the couch. He was supposed to go to school so that I could accompany Gleek on her field trip and so Howard could get piles of work done efficiently. While trying to decide what to do I discovered that a still-pajama’d Gleek had loaded the washing machine for me and was ready to start it. She was trying to help. It was a lovely thought, but she’d loaded the washer full of already clean clothing. I should have just dumped the soap in and let the clothes get washed again, but I didn’t think fast enough. So Gleek ran upstairs and wrote a note about how no one understands her at all. Then she showed me the note right as I needed to drive Kiki to school.

Gleek needed me to sit down and listen to her, to sort out her feelings. It was a window of opportunity with a child who usually dashes off distracted.

Kiki needed a ride to school, and a check for lunch money, and an excuse note for the days she was sick.

Link was laying flopped on the couch with one sock on the other in his hand.

Patch was valiantly getting dressed while coughing up a storm.

Howard was helping nudge Link into motion, heading for a shower, eating his breakfast, prepping for the gym, and trying to get into the right headspace so he can get loads of work done today.

Also: There were piles of laundry which need to be sorted; the fact that I need to sort through the kids winter clothes and see what gaps need to be covered; the fact that Gleek has holes in the toes of her tennis shoes and therefore needs new ones; Dishes to wash; my breakfast partially eaten; myself to get dressed; the feeling that I really need to get back to the writing work which has lain idle for more than a week; Schlock Mercenary email and shipping waiting for me on the computer; and the house has felt like a cluttered disaster for two weeks.

I know my life is good. I know that my problems really are small. I know that it is all going to be all right. Somehow knowing all of that makes the feeling worse because it adds a layer of guilt that I can get overwhelmed by problems that are so small in comparison with the blessings they are attached to.

Then I remember a blog post I wrote long ago. I was at a grocery store and the clerk said the perfunctory “have a nice day” My answer was “actually it has been a lousy day.” Somehow that admission and acceptance of the lousy day made all the difference in the world. Accepting it gave me the power to put it behind me and the rest of the day was good.

So this is what I am doing this morning. I’m typing out exactly why I returned from dropping kids at school (except for Patch who is being Howard’s buddy today) and wanted to sit down and cry. It is okay. Some days are just like that. So I write a moody blog post. Then I get up and make the rest of the day better.