All Is Grace

That’s right. I just started a blog post with a date. Just a date. Wanna know why?
I keep reading about people journaling. Or reading someone’s journal. It’s in front of me constantly. Frankly, it’s annoying. Primarily because I meant to do this my whole freaking life. I was reminded a couple of weeks ago that I lost an ENTIRE BLOGSPOT. The whole thing. Literally YEARS of posts about my life and my kids and our experiences and everything we did and everything I thought. I will not allow that to happen again. Even thought I’ve been letting it happen for years because I’m a stupid perfectionist. Stupid. I want to punch myself.
Today, I had breakfast with my friend Jill, like I do every single Monday morning. Because at the beginning of the school year, we realized that life is really, REALLY hard with grownup kids and we needed each other to lean on, even if we BARELY knew each other. So we meet on Monday mornings, from 8 until 9:15, when we both need to go to work. We pray over our eggs and bacon and sausage, we pray over our kids, we cover the check every other week, we give each other a big hug, and we look forward to next week. We know each other a lot better now.
Today, I planned my cake schedule for the week. Because yesterday, instead of doing that and planning the week’s meals like I usually do on Sundays, we drove to Rochester to celebrate Britton’s 14th birthday. Two weeks after the boy she’s been pretty smitten with for 9 months took his own life. It was last-minute. It was important. I took cakes–chocolate peanut butter and vanilla raspberry. I’ll send her birthday present this week.
Today, I went grocery shopping for the week with Rea and Laine. I usually do this right after breakfast with Jill, but if I had done that, I wouldn’t have been able to go with the girls. God had a plan. Laine finished at Urgent Care (with her ear infection…ugh) just as we were leaving. So. We all spent an hour at Walmart. We bought the cardstock for Rea’s wedding invitations.
Dear Time: Please stop.
Today, I made tacos for dinner. I baked a chocolate cake for Jill’s son’s girlfriend’s 16th birthday tomorrow. I pulled together paperwork for last year’s sales taxes, which I’ve put off paying and which has been stressing me out endlessly, and I need to make a phone call tomorrow to straighten all the crap out. Today, I nailed down WHICH green the pearls for this weekend’s wedding cakes need to be…except that I kind of didn’t…and procrastinated all of the sculpting I need to do. I’ll be doing a Game of Thrones throne tomorrow, and making rose centers…and figure out the centers of gumpaste cigars.
Today, I read a facebook post my oldest wrote about wanting to be with me all the time…and I cried. She doesn’t know that. But I did. And I talked to a friend about how she, as a mom of toddlers and elementary schoolers, is never, EVER going to pee by herself. It’s truth. She’s not. Ever. But it’s worth it.
Today, I got angry with my husband for not being Christlike on the phone with his coworker. I was proud of my son for following through on an incomplete assignment and take action to correct the pattern toward a ridiculous number of tardies. I bragged up my pregnant daughter’s belly. I drank a glass of homemade, too-bitter wine. I didn’t get my 10,000 steps. I looked at crochet projects for my grandson. I actually tweeted, and I made a new zepeto selfie. I was complimented on my “clear and effective” speaking skills (hahahahahaha). I made tacos for dinner. I put my own blend of oils in my diffuser two times, and loved the smell of my kitchen all day.
And I decided that I might just write crap like this every night. Not because it’s important, but, honestly…because it isn’t. Someday, I might have a grandchild who wonders what our life looked like. It looked like conversations about school for Bryson next year. It looked like running into a very old family friend who’s 12 years older than me and doesn’t have grandbabies yet and is so jealous of me. It looked like dirty kitchen floors and watering ALL THE PLANTS and wishing I could make a living at plants and animals and crochet and wine and coffee. It looked like procrastination and a cluttered house and stupid hallmark movies.
And now, it looks like 8:14 pm, and I’m ready for bed. I should do yoga. I should make cigars out of gumpaste. I should foam roll my very sore legs. But I’m going to sit here and re-read this, post it, and watch stupid tv. I’m going to do it because it’s not important. And that makes it absolutely crucial tonight.