I started this post a few days ago. Still relevant like most of my writing is; shouldn’t matter what day your read it, it will likely resonate if it’s for you.

Before I get in to the heavy, let me share a little ditty about yesterday. It’s our “break day” in this virtual school thing. I’m acutally not sure what we’re supposed to be doing, all I know is that my teacher friends drown in meetings and grading while I “get” a free day with my kids…that I’ve “gotten” to be with since March.

Sweet Jesus, I need a break from “getting” to be with my kids.

There, I said it.

And for all of you grammar Nazis out there, I KNOW I use a lot of quotes; but only just recently. 2020 is the year of the over “quoting” for me.

Yesterday Miles fished, yes fished, with a friend and Madeline read a book alongside me. It took everything I had not to feel guilty about all of this.

• I didn’t check email for an hour because I let Madeline take my phone to photograph 10 images that made her happy after she read a book for 20 minutes that, in her words, (quoting cliche aside), “I could read that book for days. It’s my favorite EVER.” Huge props to our 3rd grade teacher JK for knowing just the right one.

• I watched two boys take after their dads, and in our case also late Grandpa Al; tying line, baiting hooks, catching fish and releasing them with dignity and respect. I might have even heard, “Thanks, buddy. Good luck.”

• I took notes from a book that makes me feel like I’m not crazy; just a little weird.

First, I want everyone to know that I am fine. Dale is now referring to the description of “fine” as GARBAGE FINE or actually fine.

Today, I’m actually fine.

Everyone in my house is getting fed, including the 20 cats (they just got their Chewy order today) and all four of us humans are snuggled up watching ALONE every night in our master bedroom.

We’re fine.

Are we without tears? No.

We might not be dripping tears on the daily, but we sure as hell are running in to people that are just on the verge of letting a full-on waterfall out of their tear ducts.

(Madeline just asked me if she could take her unicorn stuffy I bought at Walgreens for her tonight (out of guilt) or if I still needed her. I may or may not have hugged that raggedy thing tight while I was working through some shit on my computer. Yikes.)

I thought I was too tired, too exhausted, too overwhelmed to write tonight. I was scared I didn’t have the right thing to say and that a post like this would just add to the to-do, to-read, to-be list of someone that was equally, or exponentially, overwhelmed.

Never my intention.

But…

I’m about to do something crazy. I’m about to unromanticize being busy.

The horror. And the hypocrisy.

This is a tough one for me. I have really always prided myself on being busy. I often get asked, “how do you do it all?” It’s always a weird question and makes me recoil a bit (no worries if you’ve asked it before…it’s a legit curiosity considering what I post on social media and write about)

Usually, when very well-intentioned people ask me that, I answer with, “‍♀️, I like to be busy.” Or, “I still definitely binge on Netflix and nap,” which makes me sound like I’m trying to play off all I do as to not make the curious feel bad. ‍♀️

That’s a whole ‘nother chapter.

It’s no secret we all have the same 24 hours in the day and believe me when I say I don’t use those any more productively than anyone else. On the contrary actually.

I basically rise and set with the sun; summer I can easily get up at 4:30am and retire at 10 but in the winter, oh boy, I follow my kids to bed at 8 and have a hard time peeling myself up to feed them before school.

One of my dad’s favorite quotes/cliches, and Steve has lots of them, is, “if you want something done, give it to a busy person.” And, I’ve lived by this “compliment” most of my life.

Being busy has become the new, fine, thanks, to the question, “how are you?”
”Good. Busy, but good.”

I think in these last six months the source of my uneasiness has come from not being so busy.

Yes, I ran kids, worked outside the home, inside the home, met with friends, went to yoga, occassionally had a date night, grocery shopped, did laundry, cleaned the house and blah, blah, blah.

Everyone does those things.

But I also made my days so difficult by saying yes to so much.

• Wanna grab a drink? Yes.

• Could you sew this for me? Sure.

• Can you quick send this email out? Of course.

• Can you grab me socks, Mom? Yup.

• Do you know where the vehicle registration is? I’ll find it.

• What’s for dinner? Fuck off.

More than that, I have a constant dialogue in my head about the things I have to do so I don’t drop the ball. And isn’t that what all of us are trying to avoid at all costs? Dropping the ball?

Oh my God, the balls we all have in the air.

If you searched you could probably find thousands of images, gifs, memes and Bitmojis about all the shit we have going on portrayed in cute little graphics about balls in the air.

In an effort to cut this post short, and give me a whole ‘nother post in the future, I’m going to give you a little teaser about balls.

Just to see how many times I can say balls.

While I was laying awake the other night and scrolling my DEATH-BY-8-LETTERS Facebook feed, I see a post about meeting the author Nora Roberts and quote she once said to someone on BoredPanda or some shit:

“When someone asked Nora how she balanced writing and kids, she simply said “that the key to juggling is to know that some of the balls you have in the air are made of plastic and some are made of glass.”

As I was thinking about this very quote, I thought how fricking genius. Duh.

Hopefully you can decipher your glass vs. plastic balls before you read on. If not…take a hot minute to decide.

This IS the answer.

But then, as I watched my friend cry on my couch about how she was terrified that the glass balls were going to be the first ones to drop, I couldn’t help but think, I can’t write that shit.

That’s great for Nora fucking Roberts but not great for my friend who, right now, feels like she has to make a choice between her kids and her job.

There are so many heavy things right now.

Are there beautiful things around us all the time? Of course.
Do we have so much to be thankful for? Yes.
Can we also cry because the burdens we carry are heavy? Hell yes.
Can we take five mintues, just 5, to walk in the fresh air every day? Say no. It took you 5 minutes to read this…you have five minutes.

I shake my head back and forth at this very moment because I still don’t know where this blog is going. And I know I could write for days about “dropping the ball” (and apparently air-quoting every three-word phrase) because it’s the ultimate fear among us.

Just for today, i want to extend my deepest love and affection to those of you that are struggling; wanting to make the day better for those around you whilst ignoring your true sense of self. I’ve done it for so, so many years.

You’re not alone. I’m here with you. You’re not alone.

I promise. You’re not alone.