Regularity is a good. Most especially for kid’s bedtimes and stupped colons. If you don’t have regularity for either, there is no end to the amount of shit that can keep you in distress if the schedule is not adhered to. This past weekend posed a great challenge to my parenting ability.
Learning curve is large, and keeping my ego in check is impossible at times. A need a shepherd to lead me to the land of the reinvigorated. I lament the absence of my forebears for the comfort that relating shared experience could have provided. Necessity calls for me to believe that they had to have known. And I smile at the humor I could have provided them for my bold ambition in trying to create sustained peace among my brood. Chaos reigns for periods of 12-14 hours, then decompression, disbelief, and the acceptance of it reoccurring the next day.
Don’t be fooled by my malaise. I’m an extremely lucky man, and I’ve sown this outcome. I love it. Them. Us.
Sometimes, I just need to blow off raindrops, and wiggly-waver in the breeze. Sitting in the sun, shining on.
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