These were taken a few weeks ago down Redart. I try to make it down there three or four times a year just to check on these boats and the docks to which they're moored.
They were all doing just fine.
Just fine is not exactly how I'd describe my temperament last evening, though.
My workdays begin early and are exacerbated by a 100-mile round-trip commute in a car with 182,000 miles on it. I get up at 5:30, leave the house by 6:15 and sit behind the wheel of a car I hope can last for a solid hour of driving before arriving at work at 7:30, where I sit at a desk in a tiny office staring at an even tinier computer screen.
All day.
Then I return behind the wheel of a car I hope can last just one more hour to get home.
When sporting events are added to that, the days, the miles, the sitting, the hoping, the worrying, the wondering, the not only is my son leaving for college but how will I pay for it moments, and the hours far from home where things need tending to are even longer.
Way, way, way longer.
So let's just say Monday was a very long day due to work and my daughter's soccer game. By the time Tuesday morning rolled around, it felt as if
Except it wasn't.
No matter what day I felt it should be, it was still only Tuesday morning, way too early.
The very long story short is Tuesday night when I arrived home from yet another brutally long day, wondering when my car is finally going to conk out from all the miles, to see the very same grass I had cut three days ago high enough for more cutting, and the very same ants I'd tamed on the kitchen counter swarming again, and the very same dirt and dust I'd swept the day before piled even higher on the floor, and the dog and cats begging for attention, and Son (who is leaving the nest soon and whose college tuition I have to figure out how to pay for) and Daughter (who will be leaving in a couple of years herself for another college I have to figure out how to pay for) simultaneously needing dinner....well.
Well.
I walked into the house and unbeknownst to me, the emotional whirlwind of exhaustion + fear + how am I ever going to do all this by myself created a spontaneous eruption of tears that couldn't be stopped no matter how hard I tried.
Later, when I explained to Son and Daughter that too many things were converging at once and that I was absolutely fine, just a little overwhelmed, Daughter hugged me and said, "We deserve to be a little crazy sometimes."
Crazy wasn't exactly what I was going for, but I so appreciate the empathy. And based on how hard we run during the school year, she's right. We do deserve it.
Whatever it is.
Son went out and cut the very grass I was worried about after helping me season the lackluster spaghetti sauce I was attempting to toss on the table as a token dinner, in between sniffles.
After all that, everything is back to status
But for now, all is good.
Tomorrow's another day.
9 comments:
You did a great thing, showing the kids that you are human, and that nobody can do everything 7 days a week. Whether we are single moms, or moms who Do Everything while hubby sits around scratchin' his anatomy...we feel compelled to live up to an ideal in our heads. We may in many cases try to make up for our partner's absence, or a lack of equal sharing of home workloads. Ahem...
This sounds like every friend I know, as well as myself. You seem like such a giving, creative and funny person, who astounds us by finishing many of the long, tortuous days with amazing blog posts.
If I ever win tickets for a Bora Bora vacation, they're yours.
XO, LLC
LLC, you're the absolute best. Thank you so much.
I had the very same crazy spell. I have this wedding to pay for, I'm working 40+ hours each week, babysitting my grandson, shuttling Ethan to his activities and trying to finish all these projects for the wedding and try to get household stuff done. So I had a crying jag and threw stuff and slammed doors. So, I'm saying, you're not alone and it'll all work out. You have 2 terrific kids, a fan base that adores you and a great family support system. You got this.
Merroir? Saturday?
Oh, dear. I knew this was coming. There isn't much that I can add that LLC, and Jamie haven't already said. I remember when my best friend's children left home for school. She couldn't even say their names without busting out crying. And they left 2 years apart.
We are here for you, ALWAYS. Everything will sort itself out. In the meantime, just breathe, and go to Merroir with big hair envy.
We all have days like this and I'm sorry it's happening to you right now. Everything is changing and your family is ending one chapter in life and beginning another. I think that parenting is really the art of letting go, isn't it? You have raised two fabulous kids and you should be proud of that. (I already know you are).
But life . . . it's just so hard sometimes.
Thanks for telling us about the tears. It makes me feel so less alone.
I think a good cry is good for the soul...empties your emotional waste can so it can, sadly enough, start filling up again.
Oh, and normal is a setting on the dryer.
xo
deb
Hi,
Just a quick question on the photos taken in Redart. You have done a few shots of the same location over a bit of time.
My question is this: Is it always high tide when you photograph there?
When I was there the water level was seldom that high (Unless it was a storm)and half of the time (low tide) you had about 5-10 feet of mud showing at the edge of the creek and there was always a few feet of clearance under the docks to the water.
In other words, has the water level risen that much in 40-50 years?
Hudgins, I don't know about the past times I've been here, but this particular time was in fact after a bad rain, so the water was higher than usual. However, having lived on Queens Creek in the 1970s and now back, I have personally observed that the water level in general is higher. By how much I can't say, and it's just my personal observation, nothing scientific.
I'll have to travel back down to Redart on a low tide sometime and take some shots.
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