I have not managed to write for quite some time. This says enough about the recent pace of life. Writing is for me the grabbing of the Dixie cup on life’s little marathon. But there are stretches where you just keep moving and the cool quenching possibility that accompanies the cup grab doesn’t seem worth the added effort- and your shorts are chaffing.
If you’re not one for motifs- or exercise for that matter- I am saying it has been wild. And hard. And tiring. I’m only befriending the laptop tonight because Ginny has taken the kids to my parents for the evening to spend the night and I came back home to do some desperately needed chores around the hizzle.
(Oddly, I feel the need to explain all of my allusions. So, for my older readers or those who think Snoop Dog is from Peanuts….hizzle is my gansta’ slang for house.)
This tidbit of wildness should come as no revelation. We have a two-year old boy whose favorite word is no, and we’re pretty sure he understands our method of discipline and correction about as much as he understands Mandarin. That’s a reference to a Chinese dialect, and Ginny’s the only one who even understands his English at this point. She is like his own personal translator.
We have a three-year old girl, and well honestly she has been perfect and sweet and unbelievable. She dances ballet and says “forcey” for horse, but that’s only cause we have made a point to not correct her. She’s been so great lately that I’m deadset her good behavior is a problem. She must feel responsible for the chaos and is trying to make it all right. And is she getting enough attention? If the squeaky wheel gets the grease then she’s the other 3 or the other 17- depending on what your driving.
We have a 5-year old beauty that requires more attention than the 2 or 3 year old. We’re working on eating and sitting up and steps with help and sleeping and communication and about anything else that five-year-olds should have already been introduced to.
We went to a neurologist in Kansas City and an eye guru in St Louis and both shed quite a bit of light on our girl. I’ll try to summarize it all at some point, but freakin’ amazing should do for Miss Lena tonight.
I fight guilt when I leave the house headed to work, feeling I have abandoned Ginny to the glorious grind of another day. Our marriage has revealed the reality of added stress; with all our efforts funneled toward just pulling off life there is little energy left for one another. And I am in high alert- going all out Chuck Norris- watching for red flags. Determined to ensure that the stage of marriage accompanying this season of adjustment does not take up permanent residency.
And please don’t let the following strike you as some saintly martyrdom.
We have chosen a hard route. We have opted-in to a path of greater resistance. We dove in without the proverbial floaties- heck without knowing how to swim.
But you know what? We’re dog paddling. And He is sufficient.
And sometimes, when the waves weaken for but a second, I can see that life under our roof is beautiful. So much so, that most days I can’t even believe I get to be a part of it.
If it seems I am talking out of both sides of my mouth, it is because I am.
The beauty comes in with the ashes. Don’t buy the lie that each is mutually exclusive. They’re a package deal.
It is wild and it is wonderful.
5,421 Comments
I have not managed to write for quite some time. This says enough about the recent pace of life. Writing is for me the grabbing of the Dixie cup on life’s little marathon. But there are stretches where you just keep moving and the cool quenching possibility that accompanies the cup grab doesn’t seem worth the added effort- and your shorts are chaffing.
If you’re not one for motifs- or exercise for that matter- I am saying it has been wild. And hard. And tiring. I’m only befriending the laptop tonight because Ginny has taken the kids to my parents for the evening to spend the night and I came back home to do some desperately needed chores around the hizzle.
(Oddly, I feel the need to explain all of my allusions. So, for my older readers or those who think Snoop Dog is from Peanuts….hizzle is my gansta’ slang for house.)
This tidbit of wildness should come as no revelation. We have a two-year old boy whose favorite word is no, and we’re pretty sure he understands our method of discipline and correction about as much as he understands Mandarin. That’s a reference to a Chinese dialect, and Ginny’s the only one who even understands his English at this point. She is like his own personal translator.
We have a three-year old girl, and well honestly she has been perfect and sweet and unbelievable. She dances ballet and says “forcey” for horse, but that’s only cause we have made a point to not correct her. She’s been so great lately that I’m deadset her good behavior is a problem. She must feel responsible for the chaos and is trying to make it all right. And is she getting enough attention? If the squeaky wheel gets the grease then she’s the other 3 or the other 17- depending on what your driving.
We have a 5-year old beauty that requires more attention than the 2 or 3 year old. We’re working on eating and sitting up and steps with help and sleeping and communication and about anything else that five-year-olds should have already been introduced to.
We went to a neurologist in Kansas City and an eye guru in St Louis and both shed quite a bit of light on our girl. I’ll try to summarize it all at some point, but freakin’ amazing should do for Miss Lena tonight.
I fight guilt when I leave the house headed to work, feeling I have abandoned Ginny to the glorious grind of another day. Our marriage has revealed the reality of added stress; with all our efforts funneled toward just pulling off life there is little energy left for one another. And I am in high alert- going all out Chuck Norris- watching for red flags. Determined to ensure that the stage of marriage accompanying this season of adjustment does not take up permanent residency.
And please don’t let the following strike you as some saintly martyrdom.
We have chosen a hard route. We have opted-in to a path of greater resistance. We dove in without the proverbial floaties- heck without knowing how to swim.
But you know what? We’re dog paddling. And He is sufficient.
And sometimes, when the waves weaken for but a second, I can see that life under our roof is beautiful. So much so, that most days I can’t even believe I get to be a part of it.
If it seems I am talking out of both sides of my mouth, it is because I am.
The beauty comes in with the ashes. Don’t buy the lie that each is mutually exclusive. They’re a package deal.
It is wild and it is wonderful.
5,421 Comments
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on March 18, 2012 at 10:32 pm
Thumbs up guys. Thanks for keeping it real. Keep talking out both sides of your mouth.
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on March 20, 2012 at 8:03 pm
Matt, so very happy you and Ginny dove in. Your both such a great encouragement.
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on March 24, 2012 at 4:57 pm
ok, you said it beautifully. You about brought me to tears and laughter at the same time with sympathy…we’re in the same boat…swimming in the deep end, trying desperately to stay afloat. there’s comfort in knowing we’re not the only ones. thanks, Matt!
Thumbs up guys. Thanks for keeping it real. Keep talking out both sides of your mouth.
Matt, so very happy you and Ginny dove in. Your both such a great encouragement.
ok, you said it beautifully. You about brought me to tears and laughter at the same time with sympathy…we’re in the same boat…swimming in the deep end, trying desperately to stay afloat. there’s comfort in knowing we’re not the only ones. thanks, Matt!