DON’T CRY OVER SPILLED CORN

IMG_5095.JPG

You’re probably wondering what this is. This is a pile of frozen corn on my kitchen floor. You see I’ve had the kind of luck for almost three weeks now Alanis belts out in ‘Ironic’, (with the exception of meeting the man of my dreams and his lovely wife), the kind of three weeks where the whole family was taken down by the stomach virus (of which I have a clinical fear of vomiting) followed by two weeks and counting of fevers, incessant coughs and teething. The latter for reserved for Phoenix, although even my teeth hurt from not sleeping for almost 16 days. Misplaced keys, the most random things breaking, internet crashing of course when I needed it most, forgetting addresses when I went to the post office. And oh, a handful of those epic mama meltdowns. Well, you get the idea. Just trying to write this I’ve been interrupted 39 times while making dinner, singing Adele to the top of my lungs with Sage on our new karaoke machine to keep her and Phoenix entertained while my husband laughs saying ‘thank goddess you’re so hot and never pursued singing’, managing the teething cranky one from biting everything from power cords to my art. And so I pull a bag of frozen corn because I didn’t have the energy to shuck a cob (don’t think I ever wrote or spoke that) and as I pull the pot out, the bag which I didn’t know had been opened, it proceeds to in slow motion spill all over my kitchen. I pause, look out to the rain, Jay Z rapping in the background and as I’m sweeping I flirt between crying an ugly cry or laughing and then something happened. That moment of perspective, the kind weed gets you to much faster but I start to think about the world and how upset the hate and violence makes me, the abused neglected children that I can’t save and so many millions of people as I stood there that are starving, homeless or addicted to something that makes them unrecognizable to people that love them. And I took my broom, which I don’t really know how to use in the first place, and carve a heart from the yellow melting corn on my floor as a symbol of not only a choice in my reaction to my overwhelming exhaustion which could have easily taken a turn for the worse but for an awe inspiring feeling of gratitude. Grateful that I have healthy children to tend to, grateful for an amazing husband that does more co-parenting I’ve ever witnessed, grateful that I have my dream home, sacred and safe, and that I even had corn to spill. Every moment is a choice. This time as in most I chose wisely. It’s not easy folks. Not easy for me who feels the suffering for all and I give all my love and all my truth always and I can be ruthless when I’m met with lies, betrayal or unkindness. But I am grateful for my passion even when that too exhausts me.

SHARE YOUR HEART