Organization is the most comforting word to me. When my life is organized, I can see more clearly, I can focus on the present and plan for my future. In my mind, I see my life, my calendar, my everything as a desktop on a computer. Neatly organized folders, labeled and arranged in an systematized fashion, each folder containing exactly what I need to be accomplish a task, complete a goal, plan a trip, and keep it altogether without losing myself. When my life glitched it was pandemonium in my mind. I found pieces missing from folders, unlabeled folders, things I have never heard of showed up and everything seemed to be floating in a gentle breeze that often changed direction. Suddenly I could not breathe.
As time went on, I found ways to slowly gather the pieces of my life as they drifted by, taking small breaths as I decide where to start. It took me time, courage and love to see that it is safe to change my desktop. Recycling what was holding me back, making new folders as I discovered new pieces and fragments of me that had been missing for years, and taking what I was holding onto tightly and putting it back into place. Everyday breathing more deeply, more completely.
My desktop isn’t in perfect order, but its close. I’m organizing my life a little bit more every day. I have discovered that I need people in my life. I have learned it’s ok to accept help from my loved ones. I have decided that it’s alright to be a single mom.
I have found happiness among disarray, although I am looking forward to my life returning to it’s organized state a little bit more every day.
My little boy K is not so little anymore, even though I want to think of him as the same cute little boy I found half-naked standing almost inside the refrigerator looking for some milk, even though the entire box of cheerios was all over the kitchen floor. And that rosy cheeked little munchkin that would roll around in the fall leaves and bury himself. Or one of my favorites, the kooky kid that put googly eyes all over his forehead so he see better. I am still cleaning up after him, still delight in watching him play, still laughing at his nonsensical ideas; even so somehow, he is not that little boy anymore. I should not have blinked.
K’s favorite book to read is the car manual. He reads it when it is his turn to ride shotgun, and tells me everything I need to know about wearing my seat belt properly, changing a fuse or headlight and reminds me to use the emergency break, especially if I am parked on a hill. Due to the many teaching opportunities I have given him, leaving my car lights on, he can jump-start my car.
This funny, charming, helpful young man makes my heart happy. When away from home he sends me dozens of kissy face emojis and wants video chat with me everyday. He will look for opportunities to make my work load easier by volunteering to cook dinner.
Although he enjoys being the “man of the house” and taking care of the girls, I know that sometimes he’d like to have some boys around too. He mentioned to me on more than one occasion, “Do you think you could marry someone with a son named Jon? It would be cool to have a brother named Jon”. I smiled at his request, happy that he would be okay if I did someday remarry and asked if he had any other requests, to which he replied, “He should also like football, especially the Cardinals”.
This football loving, nonsensical, caring young man makes my heart happy.
My youngest A, is almost 4 years old. She has brought more joy to my life that I realized I would ever need. She was a very unexpected addition to our family and came when I needed her the most. She brakes out into song in the most unusual moments . She runs into a room exclaiming her love for you. Thank yous aren’t always enough, it is often attached to “that’s perfect mom!” She is the chef of silly faces, skilled with screeching voices, and master dancing feet. She’s curious, always right, and full of love. She proudly claims, “I am my mom’s frweeteart!”
One of my most favorite stories of my frweetheart that makes me smile and brings me happiness was when we got our pet snake. Her enthusiasm for this slithering creature is amusing. I was a nervous as I anticipated the first feeding, not sure how A would feel about it. As I pulled a frozen pinkie mouse out of the freezer to thaw A said with a little disbelief, “The mouse is dinner!” My oldest daughter heard this and quickly came into the room, upset that I was hiding pinkie mice in the freezer. A with a very serious voice and one hand on here hip said to her older sister, “O, the snake is fam-a- ly!! The mouse eats cheese, it’s okay!” O, mumbled under her breath, “that doesn’t make any since A” as she walked off. A sighed and looked bewildered as she turned her attention back to the snake, Redd. She noticed I had already put dinner near the snake. Anxious for the snake to eat and concerned he might not fit the mouse in his mouth she cheered him on. “Come on snake, you can do it!” Watching Redd open his mouth wide and swallow the last of the mouse, “Yay! you did it, good snake.”
I continue to find happiness in my frweetheart…