Losing the humdrum

Two nights and most of three days later, we are home after spending the weekend with close friends in Seattle. Back in home territory, the boys run and jump and twirl and yell in the living room. They are mad right now because their dad has told them the upstairs is “CLOSED”.

I am upstairs.

It is quite pleasant up here, despite the quiet drone of whatever football game is on television (I don’t watch, I don’t care,  I try not to follow but FB status updates make that impossible).

Still, I won’t linger upstairs. The bumping and tumbling and small voices that are actually quite big in our humble abode are calling me. I will pause now, and report on the next few hours soon.


Bedtime finally happened, like in real life, and resulted in sleeping children.

I chatted with a friend, read a few chapters of a book that I’m trying to like but it isn’t happening, and crashed into bed. This morning was uneventful. I’m feeling a bit desperate to try something new. I committed to a 5:45 am run tomorrow with a friend who lives down the street, which isn’t exactly wild and crazy but I think it’s exactly what I need.

After the hustle and challenge of adjusting to a new school, a different sort of work day and child care arrangements, I’m feeling a bit like today is just another humdrum Monday. I don’t feel sleep deprived (for which I am eternally grateful after raising two children who did not sleep through the night until they were two years old), but I feel kind of… bored. Like I need to train for something, or grow something, or learn something completely new. Way back in the New Year, I wrote this post.

In this reflection, I wrote:

I know I am flawed. I also know that I am privileged. I am free to make nearly any choice I want and have it turn out the way that I think it could turn out. This confidence comes from deep within my soul. It was also gifted to me by parents who believed in me from the beginning. I am grateful. Not everyone starts out with the same possibilities.

Being deeply scarred and yet incredibly privileged, I recognize that I must take on that which will make be a better and more whole person. For the past year, I’ve avoided physical challenge with the exception of the occasional 5K or swim. I’ve done better at stepping up to emotional challenge as I explore the themes of grief and healing through words. And I’ve accepted that my personal spiritual challenge will likely become a lifelong experiment in seeking faith and realizing non-faith.

There are 77 days remaining in the calendar year.

I intend to use them wisely.


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