I know I said that Day 99 was the end, but my need for things to be wrapped up in a neat bow just wouldn’t let me stop writing before 100. 100 days, 100 stories, it just seems like a better way finish. Blame it on my typical, I can do better attitude but writing a 2nd last post after I already wrote a first last post reveals the true spazz that hides within me. It’s such a genuine part of who I am that I probably should’ve just planned it this way. And then today happened (another doozy of a day) and I knew that it was the perfect way to sign off.
As expected the mountain air turned the maniacs into little gremlins who woke up at 3am afraid of the dark and then decided they had a lot to say about it until 5am when they both finally fell back asleep–but not together. We divided and conquered and were luckily able to get a little more shut-eye ourselves.
Once everyone was awake, Big Sister just wasn’t herself. Things were going along ok until she projectile puked all over the bathroom. Now, the fact that we were in the bathroom, as opposed to some other quaint room in this little mountain cabin, is not lost on me. The bathroom was the best place to be, so as much as I’d like to complain about having a foot full of puke at 9am, it really could’ve been much worse. In what seems typical for little kids, she was fine as soon as she finished and was ready to eat breakfast. What can I say?–Vacation.
What’s ironic is that Day 100 felt more like a quarantine than any other day we’ve had. Staying in a vacation home often means you don’t have all your supplies (no matter how well you pack) so while the scenery changes, one is just less equipped to manage the hours. We’re up on a mountain with less access to things and it turns out that coloring is same no matter where you are–there is always a red crayon to fight over even if you have three of them to choose from. Somehow the sandbox, the slide and and even the swings weren’t interesting today, no one wanted to nap and they were both just generally unpleasant. Big Sister actually had the mother of all hysterical fits this afternoon. This temper tantrum was impressive in its power. I don’t even know exactly what was bothering her–Hunger? Not enough oxygen? Too little sleep? Not enough water? Can I possibly blame the moon? The mysteries never cease. But I will say this–the last time we went to the beach they both slept amazingly well, a fact I am keeping in my arsenal for the next time there is a debate about a vacation in the mountains or by the ocean.
In spite of their unpleasantness it is gorgeous here and they continue to be cute and creative, thoughtful, spiteful and mischievous all at once. When you think about it, 100 Days is more than 10% of Little Bean’s life, so it’s been a wild ride getting to see her development in this time. I wish I could say potty training was part of that development but alas you can’t have everything.
The one thing I can report is that this Corona time forced me to take a good hard look at what adds meaning to my life and more importantly what doesn’t. Somehow in this 100 days a lot of the meaningless stuff just faded away. I still have more questions than answers but the discussion of those questions has turned on a light inside of me. Similar themes seem to surface regardless of circumstance–thriving in less than perfect conditions, Effectively navigating change, embracing transitional and transformative experiences, growing up and having something to contribute to the world.
Putting the questions out there and listening as the answers come to us is one of the most stunning aspects of being a human being.
Today was kind of a shit day but that is what made it the perfect 100th day. Starting over here in the mountains, even if it’s only for a few weeks, feels like coming full circle. Managing these maniacs continues to be challenging but I feel like we’re doing it with a better set of tools this time.
And that is the truth for all of us, no matter what we are up against. Things are always changing. Impermanence is permanent. But it doesn’t mean it’s all random, it doesn’t mean we have no control. There are threads that tie our lives together. Every experience becomes a new chance to hone our tools to ready us for what’s next. Little by little we carve out a life that makes sense. Answers are revealed, we take the next step. We feel stuck, we sit still, we move back. Then suddenly we race forward. We hold too much in, we give too much away, but nothing is really lost. We are perfect in our imperfection, beautiful in our unknowing, funny (whether we like it or not) in our flailing.
Until next time,