A death grip on my basket

I said when MY kids started kindergarten I wouldn't freak out. Weepy mothers are so cliche'. I dropped my basket when they turned one, but only because I realized I had been a zombie for an entire year. It was all about me, not related to the fact that they were getting older and growing up too fast. Since then, they keep getting older, and I've only had a few scattered times when I was creeping toward a basket-dropping wipeout. Luckily, I've been able to recognize it and head it off at the pass by spending some reflective time alone, out of the fray that is our normal, everyday world.

We went to West Texas. We know the way, and we can enjoy mostly free accommodations. It was the natural choice. And, there's always more to see.

Last week, I took some time with one of my bestest friends ever, the one who gave me the verbage "dropped my basket" in the first place, and my other favorite person in the world, my oldest daughter. (Hint: everybody is my favorite. If I'm talking to you, you're my favorite. Each one of my daughters is the most beautiful girl in the world, depending on who's in my lap). Anyway, we took the plunge to take some time away, at the most inopportune time, and with not a lot of funds to fund the time. The intention was to take some time away, spend some time together, see something new, and restore our creative energy. I have therefore not dropped my basket ... yet.

My oldest daughter, who is 14, actually had a good time with a couple of old broads who can be pretty silly and who really like to share their wisdom, according to us, such that it is. She did not jump out of the car, she saw some new things, she did not complain, and she actually started reading a book. Mission accomplished!

My daughter is the master of self-portraits. Notice: she's smiling!

I realized that the funny thing about time is: you have to take it. Steal it. Be really really greedy with it. You'll never get it back. It will never be a better time.

We went to two baseball games. Go Big Bend Cowboys!

Then, it was back to the real world. A world in which my husband works in the mortgage indusry and my painted groove is dependent upon construction and remodeling and extravagant purchases. These are challenging times. But seriously all you can do is get up everyday and go do what it is that you do really well and be fair to people. So far that been a very effective policy. The days go by and all is basically well. It also could be so much worse.

So the moral of the story is, despite all of this, I have a whacky sense of peace. All the trials and tribulations make my sweet little babies going to school (and our nanny who I love like one of my own going her own way, too), seem manageable. A stressful distraction. Diversion? I have faith it's all good. Apparently, this is what faith is all about. It's easy to have faith when life is gravy.

You won't find any gravy around here, but we have lots of love and faith. Oh my gosh, but there's so much freedom in that -- if you can get past the fact that current circumstances are kind of scary and not real luxurious. So I'm smiling, teeth-gritted, with a death grip on my basket.