Jenga

This is a very big week in the Beasley household. Within these 7 days, we will celebrate, one 6 year anniversary,  one 3-year-old boy’s birthday and Thanksgiving. I love this week. I do. But no matter how much advance preparation I do for the aforementioned occasions, I inevitably face the tension of being stressed out over all that has to be done to make this week special on top of just normal life stuff. And then, just give you a tiny window into my neuroses, whenever there is an exceptionally stress-filled situation at hand, I tend to tack on more of the impossible. Like, oh, I don’t know, how ’bout we throw in a 10k, a never-before-attempted sewing project, a new house-hunt, and volunteering at a homeless shelter just for kicks. Chronic-overachievement is not a good look on me and yet, I’ve been this way as long as I can remember. And for what? So that last night while Mia is sitting in her high chair covered in buttered noodles making me FORTY FIVE minutes late for an appointment, I proceed to take out my frustration on life with my husband and my birthday boy all because of an unfinished budget, an unthawed turkey, and a few unanswered emails? Salem was still chewing his last bite of hotdog when we dashed out the door to make a 5 minute appearance at said appointment. And as I was busy explaining my tardiness, I found myself comparing our life to a game of Jenga. I hated Jenga. I still do. Whoever invented the game clearly has no sympathy for the walking anxiety-ridden. But our life has sort of become this intricate layering of schedules and menus and meetings, and for crying out loud, I have designated days for washing my hair {Wednesdays and Weekends…. Wash starts with “W”…. It’s an alliteration thing. Don’t look now, but I just blew that “tiny window” open wide with something gale force}. But that’s what I’m talking about….. I am so structured that when a gloriously “unstructured” opportunity comes along like a holiday or a special occasion, it tends to tap just the right block out of place and then my whole stack comes crashing down leaving me in a puddle of Jenga pieces moaning about what a failure I am because I haven’t started Salem’s college fund.

And so this morning, I am reminded once again…

Let’s all say it together…. “I CAN NOT do IT ALL

Who are we kidding. On days like yesterday, I can’t even do it a little. I trust a few of you Jenga-haters out there can relate.
This Thanksgiving, I am eternally thankful for friends and family who love me despite my failed attempts, my momentary melt-downs, and my seriously out-of-control alliteration fetish that one day someone will make pills for, appear on Dr. Oz, and rake in a fortune!

{Tune in next time for some more dignified thoughts on cupcake toppers and cranberry sauce.}

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