Life truth: No one, and I mean NO ONE has all their crap together.
On and given day, people everywhere are losing that last marble, the thin and thready attachment to their wit and sanity is unraveling. There are dishes being thrown, shockingly delightful symphonies of curse words being hurled full bellied at dropped balls, people shopping for groceries in nightgowns and mismatched flip flops in winter because damnit that’s how it’s going down today. There are clusters of strangers drawn together to stare gape mouthed at some version of me pumping gas wearing only a tarp for reasons I refuse to supply you all with.
Let’s just say some days it’s all you can do to stay righteous with the lord. Being human is an awesome thing, but it’s also very hard. We may clean up nicely for out-of-towners, and going to work, church, synagogue, temple, mosque, play dates and most public outings, but not always.
I’ve hidden in the back row with a nest of squirrels in my un-coiffed and terrifying early morning straight outta bed hair for Mass while feeding a toddler annentire jumbo pack of gum one stick at a time to keep her quiet, and close enough to grab before she could slide on her belly under pews towards the front of the congregation. I’ll very likely do it again. She’s a teenager now and still attempting escapes that impress me with their creativity. Gum still works with her though so I have a sporting chance.
The victory in life is in the actual living of it, the compassionate self love you show yourself when you accept that perfect isn’t a word ever intended to apply to any of us. It’s meant to describe moments. Imperfect, catastrophically and disastrously messy and gorgeous moments. And possibly donuts. I love donuts.
I’m a mom five times over which means that at this stage of the game I have only so much put-togetherness I can pull together to pass as a functional adult. I have little to no control over what life throws at me.
I prefer pies to the face, but fate chose a tree to plant in the engine of my car a week ago. Bruised ribs, broken clavicle, a totaled vehicle. That was the party favor bag of surprises that day. I let myself be as sloppy as I needed to be at first, and then I turned my attention to my healing, and figuring out a new strategy for moving forward since the original plan is clearly scrapped. Fare thee well Ruby my dear (my beloved minivan), our time here apparently was meant to be brief. Think fondly of me in your next life as a toaster or garden rake.
It’s messy in my body right now, and it’s messy in my life but it’s mine and it has beauty and poetry I never noticed until my plan fell away. So take a long breath with me and pause a bit before charging on. This is as together as it gets folks, and I’m so glad we’re all in it together. Now stand real close for the group picture. It’s the one they’ll be using for our commitment hearings some day, so let’s make it count!