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.
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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.