It has been two years (and a few months) since I have written in this blog, but not for lack of desire or will. In order to recap, we need to start with a few definitions.
Crazy: mentally deranged, insane.
Mentally deranged: to throw into disorder, to disarrange.
Insanity: not sane, not of sound mind; mentally degraded (see above).
Crazy (definition #2): senseless, impractical; totally unsound.
Senseless: lacking mental perception, appreciate, or comprehension.
My life defined: Crazy.
And I love that these definitions are circular in logic, which makes them extraordinarily maddening. Regardless, I have clearly been mentally disordered for a bit of time, and not able to appreciate, comprehend or process.
Such is the life of a parent of a new child, but it is, oh so much more than that. While year 2011 is a complete blur, year 2012 just stretched every part of me. Enter toddler-hood, with two teenagers, frantic workplace, add in teaching, a few major health issues, and the perfect storm was created.
Good intentions. They lead nowhere. I started this blog in my head dozens of times. And I ended there.
My life is the definition of crazy. Insanity. Mentally Deranged. Disordered. But is that new? Probably not. In my mind, and my less often dreams, my life is calm, ordered, and clean. I'm am convinced that I cannot live that life, how boring!
So I restart this blog, with a renewed commitment. But not a just a commitment to write, but rather a commitment to the craziness. I am learning, albeit slowly, that I need to embrace the insanity, because the opposite would lead me to frustration.
Crazy means flexibility. Crazy means that I never have time to watch new movies or television. Crazy means learning every day to live in, and not apologize, for my messy house. Crazy means priorities of family and friends. Crazy means my clothes move from body, to washer, to dryer, to couch, back to body - somehow missing the drawer and hangers completely. Crazy means spending every waking hour that I can with a growing toddler. Crazy means that the only new books I read are children's books. Crazy means that I count every teenage conversation a blessing and make time for the next one. Crazy means my car looks like a tornado went through it. Crazy means fun. Crazy means sleeping less than my aging body needs, but more than my schedule allows. Crazy means making time for amusement parks and duck parks, but no time for mental parking.
Crazy means taking the time to share this precious moment only took two weeks.
Welcome back to my crazy world.