I like to think that I’m woman enough to admit when I’ve been wrong. I’m also woman enough to notice when I’ve been wronged. I am also woman enough to admit in public that I no longer give any shits about anything and then, that woman who once gave the shits, she reaches over and pats the new me of non-shit giving on the back and it is good. And, what does this all even mean?
I don’t know.
Here’s what I do know. This season has been long and I’ve been not so much feeling the funny as I’ve been saying it. I’ve been weaving and crocheting and creating a summer blanket that is far more fun to look at than it is on the inside, where it’s soft and fragile…like a, well, like a blanket.
There has just been a lot going on. A full house. People full of individuality in tight spaces. Tip-toeing when tip-toeing may not be required and always questioning the right things to say and then possibly realizing there are no right things to say. It’s bloody tiring.
At this point, I have left well enough alone. The trips I once pretended I would plan? Neglected. The pool is inflated, yet no children swim in it. Instead? A Goosebumps marathon. All damn day. The shits I give? Gone.
Here’s the magic; I’ve accepted this as part of the tapestry of summer 2013. The summer we watched too much T.V. and mom didn’t argue when they asked for a cupcake at 9:30 a.m. and maybe we ate dinner at 7 and maybe at 8:30 or maybe, just maybe, we had cupcakes again. This is where I am right now.
In this grand display of, “MEH.”, everyone has been just fine. The children are happy to have free-form summer and I am happy to provide it. I am trying so little that it’s almost impressive. The sun sets, the sun rises and the number of shits I give still equal zero.
In a few weeks, I will have to inflate my shit-o-meter to almost bursting for back-to-school and the adult responsibilities that so graciously hang on the coat-tails of late Summer/early Fall, but, for now, my world is lazy. It smells like early morning baked goods. When coffee becomes cool, I don’t try to keep it hot. I throw an ice cube in it and go about my day of turning lemons into lemonade, but, only if it’s powdered lemonade because squeezing the juice just sounds exhausting. Let’s make the most of it with as little effort as possible, shall we?
And, when the Goosebumps marathon ends, we’ll start with Are You Afraid of the Dark. That should take us to at least shit-o-meter inflation eve.
It’s all about perspective.
It’s the end of the world as we know it…and I feel fine.