The past few weeks, my life has been consumed primarily by the following: working on cleaning and painting our new house, packing up and clearing out all of the "stuff" we amassed over the nine years we lived in our townhouse, poorly planning my boys' birthday parties, and trying to keep the interest of 125 middle schoolers as summer looms just out of their (and my) reach. In all honesty, I have been doing a mediocre job at best, which when you factor in my optimistic viewpoint, in all reality means I've been doing a pretty terrible job in every facet of my life. And in case you hadn't noticed, I haven't written a post for my blog in roughly three weeks. So much for my goal of a weekly post through the end of the school year. Yes, I am a slacker with a capital "S".
As I looked at my Facebook feed Sunday night before bed, I felt depressed--a failure at life. As all my "friends" were out enjoying the beautiful weather-- running or enjoying time with their beautiful children doing fun, whimsical activities, I contemplated what I had accomplished over my weekend. I attended three baseball games in less than 24 hours, worked the hot dog roller in the Little League Snack Stand, and finally scrubbed the shower in our new home to the point where it no longer feels like a frat house shower. Not exactly sucking the marrow out of life, but rather, feeling like a pretty sucky parent and participant in life in general.
As I contemplated what would make me feel less sucky, I decided the best way to lift my spirits and improve my mood was to go for a run after work on Monday. Now that we've moved, if I bolt out of school at the end of my day, I have about thirty-five minutes until Nate gets dropped off by his bus at Josh's day-care to squeeze in a run. As I set out on the trail, I reflected that it had been almost three weeks since I had run. Granted I've been working out plenty by painting, scrubbing away at two years of dirt left behind by the generous tenants who use to occupy our house, carrying boxes upon boxes, and running up and down flights of stairs in a whirlwind of purposeful, organizing fury, I haven't taken the time to go for a run to not just burn some extra calories but more importantly to clear my head. As I set out on the trail listening to my Eric Church playlist, I felt the stress and tension leaving my body and marveled at the beauty of the wild blue bells creating a purple carpet in the woods surrounding the trail.
After this ridiculous winter, I smiled to think how at least in my estimation Mother Nature had finally redeemed herself. I recently wrapped up a unit on Greek Mythology with my seventh graders, and we discussed how the Greeks used their gods to explain the natural phenomena around them. The Greek gods used their powers to rule the universe and primarily acted selfishly,cruelly and vindictively. Several times this past winter I have pondered what exactly have we done to make Mother Nature so angry and vindictive? Was it the pact I made with my fellow colleague not to wear a coat to school for the entire winter? Was Mother Nature just doing her best to garner our attention and remind us how powerful she is? Perhaps Mother Nature was pulling one from Fatal Attraction's Alex Forrest--"I'm not going to be ignored." After my run, I inwardly acknowledged how the beauty and splendor had restored my spirit and soothed my soul. Thank you Mother Nature.
A mere two days later though, as I drove in the torrential rain and arrived home to find a gaping hole in the basement wall exposing the hairline crack in our foundation where rain water was steadily seeping in to our finished basement--the crack the contractor was scheduled to come and fix the next morning, I thought, "Mother Nature, why do you have to be such a bitch?"
