Most of the time I feel like I have a grip on this many-tentacled sea-beast that is my life, but like all of us I have days and nights where I feel overwhelmed and lost. Where I fail at staying calm, staying focused, keeping my temper, keeping sight of the bigger picture.
The parenting of any child is a process fraught with worry. Just navigating the stormy shoals involved in raising a child safely to adulthood is a gamble. So many things can go wrong, even when parents are connected, involved, watchful, devoted.
My kids find ways to challenge me daily, in devious and skillful ways that my jedi training has left me woefully unprepared for. Many times I duck and parry and successfully ward off the attack that has been brewing; sometimes I'm even prepared far in advance of the onslaught and my defenses respond like the well-trained machines I've prepared them to be.
Then there are the days when the reasoned response, the practiced "I'm going to do and say this the next time they [insert crazy batshit childish misbehavior or even worse crazy batshit sensory/oppositional issue here]. And sometimes my preparation works, and I manage not only to retain some dignity and composure and still shepherd these willful charges into a semblance of order.
Then there are the other days. The days, that, for whatever reason, from the starter's pistol to the final ribbon - are doomed. Every stride in between either leads us to injury, misery or treason. They are in tears, I am in tears, we are all in pieces and it sucks.
We made it tonight, by the skin of our teeth.
That's good, right?