I’m laughing.
And crying.
The universe has a way of pulling you up short, slapping you in the face and saying ‘pay attention, would-ya?’ when you simply aren’t. Today is one of those days. I’ve been out of town ten of the last fourteen days… visting three different states in that time. This last trip, my whole family came with me. While that is a good thing in theory, it didn’t help my productivity. I’m morbidly behind on, well, everything. And I’m suddenly trapped in that jagged space between ‘I’ve totally got this covered’ and ‘there is no way I can do this’.
And that feeling often leads to an immobility I liken to the sensation of something dark and heavy sitting on my chest.
I sat down at my desk this morning, determined to figure it all out and saw this:
It is a comment on my post, “You want honest, I’ll give you honest“. And it is about feeling exactly as I do right now: like I’m drowning.
Like I just might be failing at LIFE.
Except I wrote it on September 19, 2011: more than a year and a half ago. As I re-read the post, something happened.
I laughed at myself.
Twenty months later, I still make to-do lists with items I’ve already done, just so I can cross things off. I still ‘pretend productivity’ to make myself feel better. I still have days where I accomplish tasks and days that I’m disappointed in myself.
I still have days where I look at you, (YES, YOU) and only see the outside….
I still have days where my parenting is stellar and days where my business runs beautifully, but never at the exact same moment. It’s impossible for me to be stellar at both at the exact same time.
I still have days that I cry. And friends I turn to for support. And moments (and days) I walk away to breathe because I MUST. And then feel guilty that I have.
Damn you, vicious cycle.
I still believe balance is the worst word in the universe because we won’t ever feel it, yet we somehow keep trying.
I still struggle. I still look to you for inspiration. I still wonder how everyone else seems to have it all together. And I’m still mad at myself for the comparison. And then I remember I’m my own best competition.
But you know what I try to do well at least most of the time? JUGGLE. And when I drop those balls, because I do, I have to forgive myself. Like when I was late to pick my kids up from school last week – by 5 minutes – and I was surprised to find the Mounties weren’t on the lookout for me. Or when I forgot crazy-hat-and-sock-day. Or when I was late turning in field trip money and had to call to apologize and beg. (can you tell I’m still working on this?)
And just like that post from September 2011, I know I’m making progress because I’m thinking about it, I’m still breathing through it and I’m writing about it.
Now, what was I saying about that to-do list? Right…. crossing this post off right now.
We moved in to our house six years ago next month. I can hardly believe it has been that long. But what I really can’t believe it that I spent the better part of that time – more than 5 of those years, in fact, sharing an office with my husband. It is a wonder we are both still standing. Remarkably, from the time we were moving in, we planned to share an office. We thought it was a brilliant idea. But it wasn’t.
In just a few weeks, I’m heading to Napa, California – arguably one of my favorite places on the planet – for a very 
The Connection
Visiting Napa!
Barely five feet tall, she is a force of a woman. The sparkle in her eyes not dulled by age, but by the disease daily robbing her of the memories she has always held so dear. The 36,500 days she has lived on this earth are one heck of a milestone…. her spine straightening with pride each time you remind her, “Me? 100? Well, I’m pretty good, now aren’t I?”
But imagine this…My sweet Grammie was born before the pop-up toaster was invented. And the blender. And sunglasses. And deodorant. And Bubble Gum. AND CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES.
In closing, I will share with you a story that, without a doubt gives you a glimpse into the beauty and character of this now 100 year old woman. For my wedding, she wore the same dress that she wore to my parent’s wedding 30+ years before. My dad did everything he could to persuade her to wear something new(his gift!), but she was determined. She had ‘only worn it once, Jon!’ and ‘it still fits, Jon!’ and ‘it’s back in style, Jon!’.
I am giddy just thinking about how proud I am of my sweet girl. I’ve told you before that 
