Life is like a box of crayons.

An hour ago, I organized a box of 96 Crayola crayons in ROYGBIV order. For those of you unfamiliar with that acronym, it's like putting colors in alphabetical order. The colors of the rainbow: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. Earlier in the evening, as I played "Bad Mommy" and let the Wonder Pets babysit my daughter while I vacuumed and gathered laundry, she dumped the full crayon carton all over the coffee table. When my husband started to clean them up, I yelled at him to stop...as I did when my girl attempted to put them away. What kind of person tells a two-year-old who's voluntarily cleaning up her mess to stop? A control freak whose life has been completely out of her control, that's who. Apparently I needed to be in control of something, and those crayons were going to be it.

Out of control. Things this year so far have been crazytown, as they say. Bad news after bad news keeps finding my doorstep, as well as those around me. I believe it's all in how you handle it--that if you accentuate the positive then you'll eliminate the negative or whatever other Pollyanna cliche about turning that frown upside down you can think of--well, the hope is that it will all even out in the end. And I am trying. Really. I've been in self-preservation mode, hunkering down like a beaten puppy and trying to just wag my tail in hopes of getting that next treat. I know it's coming...someday. Tired of hearing me whining? Me, too. It's why I haven't had much to say lately. If you can't blog about anything good, don't blog at all...is that how it goes?

Those crayons didn't know what hit them. I had them all sorted by reds and blues, purples and oranges, laser lemons and burnt siennas. I could put them where I wanted them and they wouldn't give me any trouble. No Oscar-winning tantrums about socks that are falling down or the wrong kind of breakfast. No flat tires on Easter or dead car batteries in a downpour. No unexpected financial obligations, no missing loved ones. And, above all, no illness threatening to take them away from me. I could fix them, and so I did. I know tomorrow or the next day my girl will dump them again. I'm just going to look forward to putting together another rainbow.
____________________________________________________

Speaking of rainbows and my girl, she graduated from pre-preschool this week. Yes, you graduate from pre-preschool...and yes, there is pre-preschool. Here she is with her "diploma". Now if I could just get her to stop dumping crayons, maybe Harvard will take her.

Butterflies and landslides...

It's been a week since my last post, and what a long, trying week it was. I could make a list of all the trials and tribulations that happened, the bits of bad news received, and the battles with my daughter (of which there were many) and I'm tempted to dump it all out here and let you have it. Apparently April showers don't just mean the weather; we've been rained on all over with a black cloud of bad news and bad behavior since this month began. But today the sun is actually out and I'm going to put all that away. I was blessed enough to have a good venting session with a friend the other night and I'm going to let that be the end of the discussion. What's done is done; some of it will continue and will have to be dealt with but I'm looking a fresh start today.

So far, so good.

Whenever things start going downhill, it seems like an avalanche. It all happens at once, and it's a trap to start taking inventory of the components of the disaster. If there was any good in the mix, it gets lost in the rubble and buried under the boulders of bad news. And then comes the search and rescue mission--the looking for answers so we can figure out why we deserved it all in the first place and save ourselves from more of the same. We vow to be better, to do more good and save ourselves from another landslide of bad. If it's a you-get-what-you-give system, what to do when the getting is all bad while the giving is all good?

You do nothing. You keep giving because it's the Golden Rule and you get what you get. And that's that. Handle it all to the best of your ability and move along. If you stand on the hillside, yelling about all the injustices of being dumped on, the rocks are going to start coming loose again and knock you right down on your arse. Quiet and calm is the way to go. This is what I'm telling myself these days.

So amidst all the rubble this week, I did have some flowers peeking through the cracks. I bribed my daughter into behaving at Old Navy by buying her some butterfly wings. She adores them, and her best moments were when she was wearing them. Maybe they are angel wings in disguise? They work wonders. The sight of her sitting in her wagon as her dad was gearing up to take her for a walk, wearing those wings over her coat and grinning from ear-to-ear, will be my go-to memory of the week. It is the bulldozer that clears the remains of this latest landslide. Maybe I should see if those wings come in my size...

There's no use crying over no milk...

It all started with a stupid song. A stupid song that I happen to like and wanted to just enjoy, on our way to do a hundred errands I was in no mood to do. So my family of three piled in the car and as I started to drive I pressed play on my iPod. The song's not very long and was over before I knew it. I missed most of it because of all the chatter going on in the backseat between my husband and daughter. No worries, I pressed play again, only to hear my husband complain that it was on again. And then give his ten-second review of the song, telling me how awful he thought it was. Well, thank you very much. I slammed my hand on the power button, shutting it off, and that set the mood for the rest of the day. Oh, did I mention that when I came downstairs this morning to the smell of coffee I was told that, after my daughter's cereal and my husband's cup o' joe, there was no more milk for me to enjoy a cup of my own?

If I sound like my two-year-old crying because things didn't go my way, I apologize. I'm aware that there are bigger problems in the world. I am also aware that I shouldn't let such trivial things ruin my day, that I am in control of my happiness. But it's been a rough week, with drama and chores and a steady migraine all around me. There's been a whole lotta give and not a lotta take, and guess who's the one giving? Yep. That would be me. And I guess today was the end of the my rope.

On my last birthday I visited a psychic on a whim. I'm not saying I believe in those things (after all, why isn't she rich from winning the lottery if she's so smart?) but she said one thing that rang true: I treat people good and they don't treat me so good back. (Pardon the grammar; it's what she said.) I never really gave that much thought before she said it and I almost wish she hadn't. I don't want to know that people don't want to return any kindness, to me or to anyone. And when I spend a week trying to be all things to all the people I love, I don't want to be aware of how little I get in return. Mind you, I'm not always that deserving of getting much of anything. But after shopping, laundry, diapers, school, dishes, more laundry, listening, reading, cheering, consoling, working, more laundry, chauffering, mopping, dusting, sweeping...did I say laundry?...I guess I was hoping for some milk for my coffee.

I do count my blessings. My family is generous with their love and laughter, as are my friends. But sometimes I get lost in the shuffle of daily life and forget to ask for a helping hand when I'm overloaded or when I'm slipping. When I wonder why help or support wasn't just offered without my asking, I get resentful. I'll figure out how to stop doing this someday. Until then, please forgive me if you are on the receiving end of my frustration or if you have to suffer through my ranting about it.

Tomorrow is a new day. We bought a fresh gallon of milk and I will have my cup of coffee. I will have forgotten my grievances and gripes; they will be gone in the morning. Which, coincidentally, is the name of the stupid song that started all of this in the first place.