Swimming Back to Shore

I started a new post three times this week. Each time it read a little like this: Blahblahblah, deep, emotional emoting, whine, blahblah, errgghh. But who wants to read that shit? Not me; I couldn't even finish writing the damn thing.

Here's the truth of my life, and I suspect it will not differ entirely from yours: I am busy. I have five children. Okay, that part may be different for you, but anyone who has more than two kids can identify. And I only draw the line there because when you get to three kids, you must switch from man to man defense to zone, and that makes life trickier.

It is the end of the school year for my five children. Everything, EVERYTHING, is happening at once.

We've seen concerts, plays, talent and awards shows.

The baseball season is wrapping up for Four and Five, BUT WAIT, baseball play-offs are beginning for Three. And crap, I think we still have a few more weeks of basketball clinic.

One and I went on a school trip to the Museum of Natural History while Three was visiting Washington, Baltimore, and Pennsylvania on his eighth grade trip, which we packed for at the last minute, of course.

There have been final projects to complete, final exams to prep for, and fucking final papers to write, none of which have been finished in a timely fashion by Two, who is trying to put me in my grave.

Three will graduate on June 19, about the same time One will finish his final year of high school. I had to visit the psychiatrist (no, not for me YET), to get the form letter that renews Three's 504 plan, which provides academic accommodations for his anxiety disorder. Next, I must finish acquiring documentation that proves One has a physical disability, so accommodations can be made for him at his college. Apparently, a video will not suffice.

We started Four on a new ADHD medication, which appears to have turned him into a vampire. He goes to sleep but wanders around in the middle of the night,  making him very confrontational and cranky the next day. As a result of being awakened by my little Angel more than once this week, I am similarly dispositioned.

When I am overtired, life seems overwhelming. It's a bit of a chicken-or-egg thing. My life IS overwhelming, and it makes me tired, but I'm generally a positive person, so I think of it the other way around. But I don't live in False Positive Land either. I write the Diaries to expose my life in all its gore and beauty, and there is plenty of both.

This week I got pulled out to sea by a nasty undertow of weepy wishiness, and then flung down the coast by a rip-tide of regret. I let it take me for a ride, wallowing as I contemplated the cruelty of a universe that would give me so many children with special needs. Then I remembered the Captain's directive: when the current finally spits you out, tread water until help arrives. The Captain once saved his friends from drowning in the ocean, so his advice is pretty sound.

I swished my arms for a few days and sure enough, the lifeguards arrived. I'm choosing to focus on all the great things that have happened over the last few weeks. We had a fun day with most of the boys at a small nature park. We saw a water snake eating a giant tadpole, caught a baby snapping turtle, and Three, Small Game Hunter, captured and released a garter snake. One received a Senior Award with a little cash for continually striving for improvement. I have written about 11,000 of the last 20,000 words of my manuscript. The flowers are blooming, a handsome red cardinal is quite enamored of our bird feeder, and robins are building a nest below our deck.

I have stepped away from the ocean's edge, and life is good.