Instead of a Brain Dump

The problem with being a slow processor is that when life happens at too great a pace, things pile up before I get the brain space to write about them. Then I feel overwhelmed and decide to never update the blog again. Or I consider doing a brain dump, which no one would actually enjoy reading, or just writing about something completely unrelated to everything that's happened, which feels untruthful. This is my attempt at a happy medium, I guess. Blogging on a regular basis might be the best happy medium, but actually accomplishing that appears to be beyond me these days.

The Man and I have spent the last couple months rearranging plans, digging through our post-hurricane moldy possessions, juggling separations and short visits, trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy and RV shopping. We were able to save far more than most, and the RV we have purchased (and just moved into) is far nicer than most of the homes in the neighborhood where I grew up...even if we will be cramming 7 humans and 3 pets into less than 400 square feet. I've learned a few things during the last few weeks. I hope you won't mind if I share a few of them with you.

• If a man voluntarily trades in a quiet hotel room to cram into an RV with you and your five kids (and three pets) so that you don't have to be separated for 9 months to a year, he really does love you. Stay married to that dude. Also, if he pauses in the middle of speed packing what's left of your moldy belongings to let you cry over the now moldy Indonesian chest your parents gave you on graduating high school--even while you're trying to be tough and keep packing--hold onto that moment. Doing hard things together is ten times better than doing easy things by yourself. Especially because together with the Man frequently means Indian food.
• If your parents voluntarily allow you and your five kids (and three pets) to move in with them for an open ended amount of time, you have it made in the parent department. If they also do hours of art and millions of games of Go Fish and Crazy Eights with your emotionally fragile kids, and lovingly tolerate the scribbles added to the cabinets and the new dents in the walls, just say thank you. Maybe say thank you more than one time and possibly pay for a house cleaner to come.
• Kids are resilient. That doesn't make what they are going through not hard. Being together is a strong motivator for resiliency though. Having a plan and an end date makes resiliency easier to come by.
• Close quarters mean fewer toys which means faster cleaning sessions. Win.
• RV designers underestimate how much a normal person would prefer a smaller bed which would provide the space to actually walk to the bathroom without tripping on a wall.
• Happy pets make easy travelers. Heading to Josh makes for happy pets. Now we know which one of us they really like.
• Living five minutes away from cousins/aunt/uncle is awesome. Sometimes when bad things happen (like hurricanes and family separations), we get to experience joy bringing opportunities (like getting to see some of my favorite people every day).
• It's okay to cry. It's also okay to laugh about the fact that you cry about everything.
• Just because our normal doesn't look like everyone else's normal doesn't mean that our normal isn't good.

I'm sure I'll be back with more later. Although considering the fact that there is evidently a YouTube family who do RV life with nine kids, I realize that my blog is not going to provide the novelty factor everyone else expects. But self care and all that. For now: I'm off to buy a litter scoop, mosquito spray, and butter...because priorities make self care easier to come by.

Seasonal Achievements

I wake up every morning and I think about all the stuff I can get done during the day if I just work smarter, time manage more effectively, and don't waste any time. Then by the end of the day, I can see just how little I've accomplished and just how exhausted I am, and I realize why I don't finish more of the items on my list. And the why might be connected to the five kids I finally managed to tuck in bed. But by the next morning, I'm sure that I'll be able to fit in just 20 minutes of flute practice or finish an actual blog (without having to stop two paragraphs in and then never completing the rest) or make actual headway on the book that I'm editing for a friend. Because surely I will handle things better today. Surely I will figure out a way to do All the Things!

But lately I've been thinking of a different time in my life. The summer before my senior year  of high school I discovered that I was short two years of PE. I signed up for a weight lifting class (which I used to take long walks off campus with my best friend instead of actually lifting weights) but that only covered half of the necessary credits. The powers-that-be agreed to a self directed summer program to count for the other credit. That summer my goal was to be able to run 5 miles in 40 minutes. By the end of the summer, I could run 5 miles in 40 minutes and 22 seconds, but I never managed to cut those 22 seconds off, and it drove me nuts. Fast forward fifteen years, and suddenly my body can knock out 5 miles in less than 40 minutes, and I don't even feel like I'm about to die at the end.

What I'm learning from this is that there are seasons (wow, it's like I've never had to learn this lesson before...). There are years when some goals are met and others are not. There is ebb and flow. But we are rarely in a season when everything works together seamlessly and our strengths are playing out on all fronts. Probably because then we would find ourselves drifting off on the wind, held aloft by our over-inflated heads...

This season has been a good one in many ways, if a hard one in many others. I can get frustrated about the personal goals that are not being met, or I can rejoice in the ones that (miraculously) are and in the other ways our family is learning and growing--even if those ways are not as tangible as published blog posts or a package in the mail to my friend with her (fully edited) book that I luckily evacuated with.

Yesterday instead of practicing flute, I helped my daughter work through a tantrum. Instead of blogging, I taught my sons how to look for hope in dark places. Instead of plowing through my work that I deem important, I got to serve dinner to my grandmother. Maybe tomorrow there will be editing or music or completed phone calls or new car tags. But for today, there is still so much.

The Man and I standing on the site where our new home will be parked.
Totally upgraded for a water view.

{Thank you for still taking the time to read when I post. I know it doesn't happen often these days. Thank you for continuing to pray for us as well. We have plans in the works to get our family back together by the middle of January. The Man is continuing to fight the good fight on our recovering base while the kids and I redefine home for a while at my parents'. Next step will involve a very large RV, not a whole lot of personal space, and boundless opportunities to learn patience and look for beauty.}