I’ve been wallow-y lately.  Lots of stuff going on and little of it easy or smooth.  Last week, I cried to the universe: Can’t anything in my life go smoothly!?  I think the universe answered: no.  Honestly, when I get like this, I’d really like to climb out of my skin and give it away.  Who in their right mind would take it?  

Self pity.  Ugly, messy stuff.  A gaggle of quotations run through my mind.  I get it.  Self pity. A dangerous elixir.  

Pouts:

The school year is not winding down gracefully.  Julia was late to school six days in a row.  A lack of focus on doing the tasks at hand is the raison d’être — redressing a doll, picking up some reading, working on a lego piece has all taken precedence to getting washed, dressed and ready.  The loss of focus happens in an instant, my back turns, I make my bed, I run downstairs to start the kettle.  And Julia has been disrespectful to teacher twice this week — refusing work, speaking inappropriately, being generally mean.  I live in dead fear that this will escalate and mark her as a trouble maker.  I fear alienating the very people, her teachers, who are her lifeline to the world.

I worry a lot.

Yes, none of it does much good and I’ve written these same words before.  Is it more than once?

Other worries, not bloggable, have been sapping time and energy.  A lot of time and energy.  I journal, I consult with those I can talk to, I write emails.  I am far too engaged and have taken on far too much responsibility for something I can neither direct nor change.  I worry where I have no power to change anything.  

I closed down my Mindful Circle website last week.  The decision and doing made me so sad; however,  it not feel useful and I have had neither time nor energy to make it what I want.  I can ramp up again when we are home from Italy.  I am hoping to be rested and revived.  Hopefully, inspired as well.  

And this morning, when the sun is shinning and I need to be outside weeding my prodigious garden, I recognize how one set of worries is like the other and neither does me much good at all.  My cushion time might be well spent mediating on the Serenity Prayer . . . . and the wisdom to know the difference.

I have been here before and obviously, I still need the lessons.  Letting go of what I cannot change, or what might at some future time change whether or not I worry about it, is illusive wisdom right now. Maybe always.

I make a cup of tea and open the door to my tiny back porch.  Although it is called a three season porch, today is not one of those seasons.  We had frost last night and the cold cannot be denied with an afghan and a cup of hot tea.  The cat, my warrior Muta, took over the couch.  He usually sleeps on my bed, curled close enough to benoticed and almost immovable.  But I’ve been restless, covers are a knotted mess this morning and he left for the soft and quiet couch.  When I came downstairs, he was passed out, belly up and front paws thrown over his head.  He looks silly and safe.   By the time I’ve brought my cup and laptop to the couch, he is stretching and yawning and makes room for me.  My anthropomorphic description startles me.  Either I am getting to be the crazy old cat lady or Muta is wise beyond his species.

Looking on the dark side of possibilities is exhausting and really feeds the inner curmudgeon.  On the other hand, sadness and fear is real.  On another hand, perhaps Muta’s paw, I need some blessing counting on Sunday morning.  

Julia is getting very good at writing notes of apology to teachers.

Julia has graduated to taking showers almost completely independently.  I still turn on the water but that too is teachable.

If she reads one more Star Wars books, I’m going to go bonkers.  BUT she loves to share them with me and I will accept bonkers.  My curiosity which goes unanswered is: what is Yoda’s species?

Julia truly loves her American Girl dolls–an attachment I never thought would happen.

Julia’s social bids continue to increase.  The other part of that, reciprocal conversation, is still very limited but it doesn’t bother her that I can perceive.  

On Mother’s day (my least favorite holiday and a real curmudgeon cultivator for me), Julia and I went with friends on a picnic in an apple orchard.  We sat beneath the trees as apple blossoms gently rained down on us.  It was near cinematic perfection.  And it did make me smile.

I’ve been to the gym every day this week, actually feeling like I need the workout to keep me in a good emotional state.  This is something I never thought I’d write!  And I can jog a short distance without having pain or loss of breath.

The garden is lovely.  And needs care.  My favorite poeney is almost in bloom and the Japanese iris is right behind.

The first blush of a travel plan is coming together.  In Italy, Turin, Genoa, Milan with somewhere by some water in between.

49 days until we travel.

Ok, possibly I am finding a bit of hearty spirits today.