September 12, 2010

The Art of Letting Go



I have two personalities. Lazy Bum and Control Freak. I function about 92% of the time in Control Freak ("CF") mode.

I think motherhood will either force a Control Freak to:
1) genuinely freak out, or
2) find art in the craziness.

I think I may have a combination of the two. Some days, I can take the greasy fingerprints on my clothes and laugh about it. Other days, I swear I am about to tear my clothes and stick my head in the oven.

I made eggs for breakfast. I plopped Stella down with her own eggs, a biscuit. I turn around for one split second, and Stella had her grubby mitts in the middle of mine.



After breakfast, James found a Christmas stocking. I have no idea where he found it. One by one, he tore the decorative jingle bells away from the stocking. I watched him do it, and I truly did not care. My control freak was still sleeping. I watched as James "jeengled" the bells in his greedy little fists. I watched as Stella crouched quietly in wait, until James let down his guard. She stole the bells, and ran away. James screamed and freaked out. I watched as they ran laps around the house, James screeching, "My bellllllls" and Stella looking over her shoulder, squealing in delight. After ten laps, I took the bells. They both freaked out, and the bells went in the trash when no one was looking.

Result: fifteen seconds of peace and quiet.

Thomas the Train popped up on the tube, so dancing and merriment commenced. I had visions of a future on Broadway. Minor jazz hands. Fabulous. But then Stella walked in front of James, and he just shoved her to the ground for no apparent reason. Hello, Mr. Spoon. More mayhem.

About eight seconds later, Stella and a bowl of goldfish crackers emerged (also, do not know where that come from) and ten additional seconds later, the goldfish were thrown on the floor.

And so it went.... all morning long. Monkey see, Monkey do. Don't do that. Sit down. Come here. Do not put your fingers down your diaper. Who pooped? You get back here.

My Control Freak could have really done some hardcore controlled freaking today. But instead of nutting up, I chose to embrace crazy, pull out the Nikon and make art out of the goldfish. I literally laughed out loud when I saw a rogue jingle bell in the midst of the mess.



The Art of Letting Go. I do not possess the talent very often, but when I do, it's a beautiful thing.

3 comments:

becky said...

If it weren't for learning a bit of zen in the process of mamahood, I don't think I would have survived the last 3 years.

Love the goldfish pic.

BarbaraMaysBurns said...

As hard as it is to believe, I learned about 16 months ago to let things go, and just enjoy the craziness myself. (or the craziness that IS myself...) Motherhood has squashed (most of) my obsessive complusive tendancies.

I even relinquished control of the sponges. My dear sweet assortment of kitchen sponges.

Miracles never cease, I'm told! :o)

Mere said...

Thanks, guys. And Barbara...I'll believe the kitchen sponges when I see it. LOL!