My laptop has been sitting on the kitchen bar for a couple of weeks now and every time I look at it I think, “I should write” and then I don’t. I’ve been doing other things – it’s May with all the crazy that comes with the month- but I’ve mainly been marinating in a toxic stew of low grade anxiety with occasional bouts of hyperventilation over Big Life Questions such as 1) am I royally screwing up my kids, 2) do I have what it takes to lead this conference, 3) I’m six months from 45 and am I where I wanted to be at this point in my life, and 4) is it time to close the chapter on blogging?
1) I hope not.
2) I hope so.
3) Talk to me in 20 more pounds.
4) Jury’s still out.
We’ve got a lot of changes coming down the pike – the kids leaving middle school for high school, saying goodbye to the familiarity of the year-round calendar to go traditional, and having a passel of boys turn 15 next month which means learner’s permits and driving lessons.
I still get nervous when they ride their bikes to the pool so HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO CALMLY HAND OVER THE KEYS TO THE VAN?
I don’t like change. I just don’t. This is the woman who took years to learn to say Costco when they changed their name from Price Club, who still can’t confidently navigate Windows 8 even though she upgraded months ago, and whose favorite waitress at Pho Super 9 automatically yells “B7” to the cook as she walks in the front door. The point is, I like routine. I like predictable. I like known. And everything coming down the pike is anything but those three.
Someone hand me a paper bag to breathe in.