[writing] between friends

I feel like this one is self-explanatory.

Hey, Katie. How’s this for my first post title?  It seems like a good start to me; it captures the  essence of this blog. After all, there are several things we can learn from this rule, when you consider the catalyst and follow-up. Really. It could be fun.

After having people tell me for years that I should start a blog and then tossing around the idea for this one with you, I finally decided we’re not getting any younger and life isn’t getting any less crazy. So, over winter break, I decided I would start the blog immediately after the new year. And take my vitamins every morning. And drink less.

But then Sola sat on a triceratops in the bathtub and my plans went to shit. I won’t go into details for our (potential) readers but, as you know, there was an injury involved. Here is the kind of math equation I find more interesting than one dealing with numbers: slippery bath water + brother’s triceratops + bare lady parts= trip to doctor.

The week that followed was difficult. We had just returned from our 2-week journey to the Midwest and during the trip there was too much eating and drinking and not enough sleeping. Don’t get me wrong: it was super great to be “home,” which is how I viewed the trip back. And the main stress of the trip was ultimately a good problem: we have so many friends and family in Oklahoma and Kansas who love us and wanted to see us. So after non-stop visits, late nights, mornings tinged with hangovers, and no concept of time or routine, I was looking forward to getting back to the same bed every night, meditation and yoga in the morning, writing and mothering during the day. This is when I should have known I’d run into trouble: I had developed expectations. and they all revolved around me.

Having kids is a constant reminder of two important things: 1) it’s not all about me and 2) I’m not the one in charge. The more I fight against these realities, the more we all suffer. I feel punished for having personal ambitions, the kids feel punished for having the nerve to exist, and Chris feels punished for getting involved with any of us.

I think I took Sola’s injury harder than she did. She was fine after a few days. I was the one who ended up sobbing on my therapist’s couch. (more about that later.) Mostly, I was sad for her. But I was also angry, somehow, that the new year was already off to such an unpredictable start and I was starting it feeling already behind.

But you either fight reality, ruminate, and get left behind, or you let your expectations go and stay on the journey. So, the blog is up a few weeks late and I’ve been drinking dirty martinis. At least I’m taking the vitamins.