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One thing after another happened all day long. None of them were unexpected things, they were just all thinky, important, and urgent. So I did not get many spaces. Instead I:

Managed school departures and arrivals for four kids.

Put together and ordered our annual Schlock thank you postcard.

Began work on the 2013 Schlock calendar, because this year we want to customize the calendar pages rather than just dropping in some pre-made calendar pages.

Did the accounting.

Met with Kiki’s art teacher to talk about Kiki and what she can do to get some scholarships.

Helped Patch assemble a display for his science fair project.

Listened to Gleek’s newly-learned, short, repetitive song about manatees about a bajillion times.

Gave Kiki the tools and materials to matte her art for an art show.

Made dinner, while simultaneously running homework time and cooking a double batch of cookies all on a deadline because we needed to get out the door for cub scout pack meeting.

Attended pack meeting.

Came home to finish cooking the cookies and realized that all the cookies are ruined because in the chaos I did not add baking soda or salt. Threw away all the cookies.

Now I am tired and feel discouraged because I made that lovely list only two days ago about how I was going to make good use of my time, but right now all I want to do is shut off my brain and stop thinking about today.

The calendar square for today is empty–no appointments, activities, or places to be. So it would seem that I could have a quiet day of writing and working. That was what I’d planned for today when contemplating the day from a week’s distance. I knew last night that my plans for today were going to require revision. The day was filled to overflowing with the sorts of emotional events which do not get written on the calendar. Many of them slopped over into today as a result of yesterday’s deluge. None of it is tragic or long-term, just the various emotional dramas that attend the process of growing up. But now I’m looking at all the other blank days on my calendar and thinking how grateful I am that they are blank, because I’m certain they won’t actually be empty.

There are at least seven different places I could start to tell a story of today. A story, not the story. This day doesn’t have a single narrative, no big event which over rides all else and becomes the focus for all the events around it. Instead I’m left with pieces of stories: The science project in process sitting in mason jars on my counter. The lost homework paper which was the cause of much drama and stomping. The forgotten appointment that I hurried to arrive late for. The pounding of my feet on a treadmill while I listened to Disney’s ultimate swashbuckling album and pondered how pirate songs were not usual gym fare. The script I read for Howard before he headed out to draw on it. The plethora of emails both business and personal along with notifications from various colleges who are trying to make me believe that they’re enthralled with the wondrous capabilities of my daughter when they’re really hoping to get some of my money. The nap I didn’t take. The dinner which is sitting in a casserole dish on the stove “cooling” while I find the emotional energy to call everyone to the table. Then there are the fragments of stories yet ahead of me: homework time, dinner, bedtime.

I would dearly love to draw all of it together, make a coherent whole. I like it when stories have themes and deeper meanings than is implied by the basic scenes. Instead I must accept that today taken by itself does not carry a full story. All of these things are threads of much larger stories which will play out over the next months and years. Some days have stories, others just have pieces of stories. So it goes.

Reminders I needed today:

Running is better than crying (exercise is the mood balancer)

Shut up and write the words (on writerly kvetching courtesy of Shanna Germain.)

My job is to love people, not fix them.

Words have value even if they only change the one who writes them.

Reminders I didn’t necessarily need today, but which are good to remember and list here for a day when I do need them:

Patterns matter more than incidents.

Courage is not the absence of fear, it is deciding to act despite the fear.

Education is not a race with limited prizes at the end.

Fall down seven times. Stand up eight. (courtesy of Janci Patterson)

Your physical spaces should reflect your priorities.

Emotions are not a problem to be solved. They are a powerful indicator that there is a problem to be addressed.

Some goals can not be reached without a leap of faith.

Find the places that fill your soul and visit them often.

I do not like having a head cold. I do not like it Sam I Am. That statement would be a lot more clever if I’d made it rhyme. Of course rhyming verse construction appears to be one of the functions shut down by having a head cold. Also shut down: prioritization, energy, and will to go do things. I not even feeling all that miserable. I keep doing mental assessments of my physical state and thinking that I should just shake it off and get stuff done. I did accomplish the important meeting of the day, take Link to check for strep (negative), and pick up all the kids from school on schedule. But right now I’m staring down the barrel of dinner, homework time, and Family Home Evening. All I want to do is crawl into bed and watch movies until time to sleep.

Tomorrow will be better. I know this. I’m not even intending to complain really. I just suspect that it will be nice to have recorded that some days are full of sloth and fatigue rather than organization and competence.

Last week was moody, hard to get anything done moody. About all I managed to accomplish were the bare minimum parenting and house tasks. Oh, and I started going to the gym again. Then on Friday, things felt better, as if a cloud had passed over the sun and moved on. Saturday brought a professional event when Howard and I accompanied Brandon and Emily Sanderson to the League of Utah Writers Round Up in Park City. I’ll admit that I felt apprehension about going. Some wisps of worry clung from the week prior making me think that my departure would result in some unspecified disaster at home. The feeling also came as a foreshadowing of the larger worries I have about leaving my family for a week. Yet I put on my professional clothes and went anyway.

Everything was fine. Even the hard bits were fine. Gleek and Patch had a major argument and resolved it for themselves. When I arrived home all was happy. Of course the next two hours involved conflict piled on conflict featuring Gleek, who picked that evening to push on the limits and then repent of all wrong doing she has ever committed. Yet despite how exhausting those two hours were, they cleared up some significant emotional turf for Gleek. Hard does not always mean bad. So I am both reassured and I continue to be concerned.

The sun continues to shine today. I feel normal. This is evidence that last weeks moods were primarily driven by thyroid imbalance. I hope to spend this week in calm preparation for my upcoming absence.

The LUW Round Up probably ought to get its own entry. It is a smaller event and more literary focused than most of the events we attend. I liked being at an event where genre fiction was not the primary focus. They had classes on Creative Non Fiction and Poetry. I was able to attend portions of those classes. But my favorite part was getting to present. It reminded me (again) how much I love teaching and presenting. I need to be doing more of it.

I carry a sonic mood alteration device in my pocket and I forget to use it. The device is my phone and it is fully capable of playing music. Or it is now that I’ve actually taken the trouble to put music onto it. I’ve always been very passive about music. I listened to the radio, or the mix tapes my friends made, or whatever was played by the DJ at the dance. I had definite preferences for what I liked, but I’ve never sought out music and claimed it for mine. Definitely not the way that Howard does. Last fall I spent time seeking visual things. This fall it looks like I’ll be curating my music collection. Because there is real power in music and I want my phone to be full of songs where I hear the first few notes and think “Oh I love this song!”

Also, the gym trips are much nicer when I get to pick the music. Today is much better than the last four days. I just need to keep moving.

I swear wasps are going to give me nightmares. I stepped on one. In my house. While I was putting kids to bed. I’ve no idea why the thing did not sting me. It should have. The good news is that while Gleek and Patch heard me shriek, neither of them knows it was a wasp. I told them a flying bug scared me. They’re still recovering from major stinging insect paranoia. I am very ready for night temperatures to freeze and send these things into hibernation. Gah.

The entrance to the nest was dug under a railroad tie. I could see the hornets going in and out pretty regularly. My first attempt was to wait until dark and then spray the entrance with one of those wasp killers that shoot 20 feet. I tried to spray right down the hole. Unfortunately the next day proved that the nest was not dead. There were fewer hornets, but they were still coming in and out. Tonight it rained, which I hoped would be additionally calming to the stinging bugs. I scraped everything away from the entrance. Then I used a foaming wasp killer which is supposed to coat a nest. I’d spray the entrance until it was buried in foam, then use a shovel to dig it out a bit. The force of the spray was sufficient to loosen up the dirt quite a bit. I repeated as often as I dared, which was until I’d almost emptied the can. I definitely dug into a hollow space underneath the wood, but I’m still not sure I got a clear shot at the nest. This is particularly true if the nest us up into the wood rather than even or below the entrance. I didn’t see any bugs, which I’d expect if I killed the heart of it. I’ll see if there is activity tomorrow. If there is, I’ll repeat this process. The location of the activity will help me know where to focus the next spray and dig attack.

The whole thing was pretty nerve wracking. I do not like to dig where I think there might be a hundred angry stinging insects. On the other hand, they would have had to wade through poisonous foam to get to me, so I was pretty safe. I will exterminate this nest. It just may take a few days.

We were given family passes to the local water park as a Christmas gift. These passes also include other area attractions, so we’ve been putting them to good use. However the existence of the passes meant that I had to find the energy and mental fortitude to brave the crowds at the local water park. We did and had a good time. After the first trip the kids spent the trip home full of plans for the next time. Today was our next time. We went again and had fun again, but several interesting things happened. The kids did not feel intense about getting to do every single new thing. They were much more willing to settle down with a preferred activity. As a result we didn’t have to do as much negotiating. Also, when it was time to leave, the kids didn’t argue. They remembered last time, how crowded and hot things got as the afternoon progressed. Going home was just the end of this outing, not the last view of the water park forever.

It got me thinking about scarcity and expense. When a trip to the water park is a rare event, there is pressure to make the most of it. This is particularly true if the expense is high relative to the budget. A once-per-year special trip is more likely to be filled with stress, crankiness, and sunburns as everyone stays longer than optimal for enjoyment. As I walked out of the park, I could see it in the faces of the other park visitors. Some of them were determined others relaxed. I’m becoming quite enamored of multiple relaxed trips instead of once-in-a-lifetime special trips. On the way home the kids joked and laughed about food. They were not full of plans for next time. In fact, a couple of the kids said that they actually prefer regular swimming pools. This was music to my ears, because I do too. This is why in all the years previous to this one, we’ve not gone to the water park. Now the kids know that this is not something to lament. A couple of water park trips are enough for a good long while.

The other thing I learned is that I don’t like to go down slides backwards. I much prefer to see where I’m going so that I can anticipate all the dips turns and drops. This should not surprise me as I spend so much of my life trying to anticipate what comes next.