When I started my Education degree (a million years ago), there was a crazy lecturer who insisted everyone in his tutorial learned to juggle. Why? Because teaching is like juggling, you need to be able to keep all your balls in the air and everything under control. Rule one, don’t drop the ball.
So, I’ve known for a long time now that life is about juggling and balancing,occasionally walking a tight rope and often squishing lots of people into a tiny car. I practice yoga in order to maintain my flexibility and balance. I walk wild animals (otherwise known as Franke and Chewy) for fitness and I have just taken up kung fu, for…well…for kicks. So why is it then, that despite all this knowledge and effort, I am still capable of losing my mind?
Yesterday for example, I found myself snarling at my husband. He hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, I think he was doing his best to be angelic. I snarled anyway. Then, that same afternoon, I picked my daughter up from school. She told me about how her bread roll had been mouldy, her scroll contained nuts (pine nuts btw) so she just didn’t eat it because Marcello is allergic to nuts and she can never remember to wash her hands. She’d left her togs at home (on swimming day) and her hat in the car.
That’s how we know I’d lost my mind. I cried over a lunchbox and a hat. Basically I cried because even while trying my butt off, I still dropped the ball. My tightrope walk had failed and I was splattered, flat, in the middle of the center ring. I’m not sure how this relates to writing; except that tomorrow is always a new day. A rejection letter from one person does not mean a bad book. A mouldy sandwich does not indicate (entirely) bad parenting…oh…and that really small car??? You should probably just get used to it.