Soaring and Stillness: Life with the Chickadees

In a year of uncertainty, we've stood together, arms linked both literally and figuratively. But in the spot we're currently in? I'm ready to let go and get all schlumpy. My gracegirl has flown the coop for extended periods, little bit took on the responsibility of a new puppy, and we changed nest locations. Phew. Too many life events in the span of five months. I'm. Exhausted. Physically. Emotionally. Spiritually. Worn. Out. I'm not a woman who stops. It's one of my great features and also one of my almost fatal flaws. I go and go and go. Until I'm no good to myself or anyone around me, unless the "around me" includes the public. Then, I'm peachy. I'm "fine". You've heard what that stands for...right? Yep. I'm that. The problem being, that when I'm that I don't like me . I'm a rare bird. I usually like myself. I don't worry about what others think. I believe that stems from riding the short bus,...

( sometimes it's best to hold hands and keep on keeping on) It's Thursday, and the social media sites I frequent all feature various videos and photos with a # and the letters TBT. Throw back Thursday . A day to reminisce and recall a previous sweetness. Not a bad concept in a culture always set on moving full throttle toward something new. Most Thursdays I enjoy looking at old videos of dance routines or of my friends as smallish people. Not today. Today I would love for it to be "Do over Thursday." If I was being honest, I think I'd prefer for it to be "do over" week. That would make it do over month...at that rate let's make it do over year. I need a do over . One with more energy and patience and less tears. A day ( or week or month ) filled with waking up feeling rested and capable and like I'm not failing at something. I'm not whining or down in the dumps, I'm just keeping it real. Raising and homeschooling g...

Today I'm joining my friend The Gypsy Mama for five minutes where I'll write without editing, backtracking, or second guessing.  I'll write to find the beauty in the words...writing on empty in order to uncover a piece of me in this week that was crowded full of kids and deadlines, a  new pup and midterm giving husband. Ready, Set, go. EMPTY .  .  .    It's where I'm at right now, after a week where my limits were exceeded on Monday and then left in the dust. Where were the energy police when I needed them? No one stopped to give me a ticket or permission  to slow myself in the chaos of the week. My patience lies there too, plumb run out, as I cringe at myself after correcting my little about, of all things, brushing her teeth with excellence . Who brushes their teeth with excellence? I mean, good gracious , we brush them well, but excellence is reserved for other items, like speech, education, our treatment of each other, sharing what ...

In the little moments, I need to remember she's not trying to break my heart. Her sweetness emanates from her in a way unmatched by other children... She's never known me as a physical force like her sister has; as she grows she won't recall how I used to change furniture around because I was bored with the look of the room. She hasn't done those quick trips to the hardware store in search of the perfect paint color to change up the walls. I used to do that. Often . She'll never remember that I was able to easily push her for what seemed like forever on the swing, her wispy curls blowing in the breeze as she called out, "MORE, Mama, MORE!" in that baby voice I can still hear in memories...lost to her will be the pictures in her head of me following her up the steps of a slide like I did with her big sis. Her recollections won't include me running after her as she took those baby steps from tentative to full speed. She doesn't recall ba...

Sometimes, the rain and temperature drop combine for a caustic combination on the body.   I tell my chicks that our walk for today is on hold, seeing as one of my ribs doesn't feel much like cooperating with the rest  of the cage.  Sitting up straight is virtually impossible. Deep breaths take work.   UGH . The eldest conspires with the little. They are supposed to be studying for a Latin exam as I lay flat on the  floor, the only position offering relief at this point. A plan has been reached. "You take her arms and I'll grab her legs and we'll both pull, okay?" ... WHAT??? Tiny hands encircle my wrists, stronger ones grasp at my ankles. The dog decides to come and lick my face. I'm trapped .  Protesting quickly turns into belly laughter as they both start pulling in opposite directions.   Round 2, all pulling at once...I grabbed the camera between giggles I'm not in any less discomfort as I type this, but a smile nudges at t...

Modification (n.) 1. The action of modifying something. 2. A change made. 3. A small alteration, adjustment, or limitation. I've been making a myriad of modifications around the nest lately, such as changing out shorts for cozy cable knits, switching lemony linen throw pillows for cream sherpa fleece, and altering my ever-too-long pant collection . Changing Switching Altering Three words that are synonymous with the concept of change and are found in the definition of modification. I've spent most of my life coping with Senor Change, and my letter to him would read something like this: Dear  Sir Change, I see you've decided to visit me again. I guess you've failed to recall that we are not  bosom buddies. I don't care for you. I wish you'd leave. You make me feel all sorts of upset inside. Remember when I was young and you caused such enormous upheaval in my life? I do. I also recall you wreaking havoc on my teens.  And my twe...

As a child, I looked forward to leftovers. Okay, at this point we'll all take a moment to acknowledge , well, my, um, weird unique traits. I liked knowing what was coming the next day. The routine, the plan, the constancy of smell and taste. I took comfort in the fact that Mom had prepared enough ahead of time to tide us over in case she didn't feel like cooking the next evening. In all honesty, we had leftovers because Mom over prepared. She made too much, anticipating my brother and me consuming more than humanly possible. Suffice it to say, we were well loved children, but that's another tale entirely. Bringing me back to...leftovers. Have you ever noticed that some things taste delicious the second time around? Chocolate cake for breakfast , meat pie, and mashed potatoes turned into pancakes all being prime examples. Other items though, change consistency and color and begin to look pale and mushy and, well, gross. It's the latter that I've been thinking about...