Week 19: Sheepish

It is always hard for me to come back and write here after a weekend. And I find that the more time goes by without writing, I procrastinate even more and put off just getting in here and doing it. It's not that I don't want to, it's that I feel bad.

But this week isn't about feeling bad, which is probably part of why I feel sheepish. I figured a week starting with Mother's Day would be a good time to reflect on the things that I actually do well. I've had 18 weeks of reflecting on the things I do less than well, after all, and I am in a bit of vapor lock with a million things to do that I'm just not doing for one reason or another. I could use a boost, in other words.

And for the record: meditation sure as shit wasn't doing it. I might want to revisit that at some point when life is a little more settled but with a couple of things coming up I feel a bit pulled around and I am just not succeeding in quieting my head. My last shot at it was Sunday and while I had a decent grocery list formed in my head by the end of the ten minutes, it wasn't what I wanted to have. I wanted a few moments of tranquility. For me, for now, though, I think, I have a better shot at that with yoga.

Anyway -- this week is about feeling good, and happy, and giving myself a little pat on the back. Thus, my task is to write a few words each day (well...each day after this one, for the rest of the week) about one thing I am good at, and -- this is the hard part for me -- not equivocating or qualifying in any way. No "I could be better" or "not the greatest, obviously, but..." kind of shenanigans. If I am giving myself credit, I am giving myself credit, period. So. Here goes, briefly.

Sunday being Mother's Day, that's where my head was. I've been a mom for sixteen years, and I think I'm pretty good at it. I love my kids, they know I love them. We have fun with each other, and I take good care of them. In general, they're nice, happy, smart, funny kids that other people are happy to know. I might bitch about it a lot here, but I like them a lot -- like, I would like them even if they weren't my kids. They're awesome, and I am proud of them and proud to say that I had a hand in their being awesome. More than that, because I'm such a swell mom, I didn't even complain about making my own Mother's Day dinner.

Although that might have had to do with knowing I wouldn't be cooking on Monday night. Monday was a delayed Mother's Day celebration with my mom, who works all day on Sundays until 9 at night. Family tradition (and husbands/children who cannot or will not cook) has been that Mother's Day dinner consists of a bucket of KFC chicken and an easy-to-make or store-bought dessert. So Monday night, I loaded up the kids and hit the KFC drive-thru for our customary bucket of fried chicken and sides and brought it to Mom, where we chatted about this and that. I know my mom is having a hard time adjusting to life since Dad died, and I've been trying to help in every way I can, trying to keep her company, listen to her, but give her space to figure out what and where she wants to be. Honestly -- it's hard. It's hard because I hate to see my mom sad and I hate being reminded that my dad is, in fact, gone. But I think I'm doing a pretty good job of letting her know I'm there for her, and it makes me feel like I'm doing a good job at being a daughter.

Blugh. I'm tired and this is weird. More later.