Do you ever have those days where if it could go wrong, it will? I know you do, and even with the best of us it can happen as well. But what can you do? When everything gets in the way, sometimes all you can do is bear down and move forward.
(That’s me, frustrated and beaten)
I had full intention of posting the third installment of the Fulfilled Purpose series today. But children and technology clearly had other plans for me.
I love my kids. I really do, but there are days when the idea of shipping them off to the furthest reaches of an arctic plain would not be such a bad idea. Today was one of those days. Everything and anything that could have been argued about, was argued about. My son, whom I affectionately call Awall (a fitting name believe me), was even more insane and energetic than usual.
From bouncing the basketball in the house, to the whiny arguments over a bouncy ball in the rear of the truck on the way to day camp (which incidentally I resolve by compensating him 40 cents, 25 for the ball plus interest just to stop the fighting), followed by losing his water bottle at camp (which was never actually lost after 10 minutes of searching, it was left on the floor of the truck all morning after all), and later raucously trampling through the house half the afternoon with his friend from across the street torturing the girls. Doors were slammed (not out of anger, but only because they could be), full on Nerf wars were fought in all corners of the house, more doors were slammed, screaming and laughing, more bouncing the basketball. My GOD BOY! GO OUTSIDE! But really, I do love the kid.
The Princess, on the other hand, was more sly in her torment (as she commonly is). Her manipulation is skilled in being able to rouse her brothers passions and cause HIM to get in trouble. But fear not, for I’ve been on to her schemes for some time now. The boys had asked to go to the park, and while the neighbor is 11, Awall is but 8, and not my idea of the most cognizant of young men. Brilliant, but like his father will do anything to raise a reaction and draw a crowd. I explained that they may go, if The Princess went with them, so upon asking and receiving his sister’s consent, she withdrew to the house with full intent of driving him completely insane by delaying the departure for 20 minutes (which to an 8 year old boy that wants to go play on a beautiful summer afternoon, may as well have been 7 years spent in a Vietnamese prison camp).
Knowing full well her play, and the argument that followed, I called them near in that terrifying half whisper, half hiss that my own mother used on me countless occasions and explained the following. “I QUIT. I am no longer referee today. From this moment on, I expect nothing but full contact, Kumate style, MMA cage match fighting from the two of you! I am not intervening. Resolve your own issues, and if necessary, resort to beating each other until one rises the clear victor. From then on, that one is the boss, and makes the rules!” A slow curling smirk approached the corners of each of their mouths. Point taken, problems resolved. Score- Dad 1, Kids 298.
Ah, but now we move on to the curious case of technological challenges. When I craft these beautiful texts of prose and learning (self promoting is my only solace after today), I utilize a writing process from other skilled craftsmen of the written word that have created wonderfully amazing followings.
Now my parents didn’t raise no dummy. I’ve always believed that success leaves clues, and the fastest way to reach it is to follow in the footsteps of those ahead of you. But alas, I beg the question, what do I do, when the blog post that I worked so diligently on for HOURS amidst the struggle and strife of screaming children, is saved on a site that is going through SCHEDULED MAINTENANCE at the precise time that I was prepared to complete and post! ARGGH!
But wait, there’s more! I was saddled also with malfunctioning Wi-Fi informing me that I was not connected, but was connected. In addition, my pc kept erasing the text I had just written each time it autosaved, which incidentally was set for every 2 minutes. Uh, AWESOME! I get to type that paragraph again? And again? Oh, one more time you say? Fantastic! Lets!
So, what do you do, when you’re absolutely exhausted, beaten from the day you’ve had, but still have the burning desire to fulfill your commitment that you made to yourself, and declared to the world that you would accomplish by posting every Tuesday and Friday? You write a rambling, frustrated rant. And you post it anyway. Because some days, most days even, there’s credit to be had in showing up and getting it done.