Holiday Rush

Last I wrote was December 16. Although nothing hit the blog, I've started several posts in my head, which moves the braincells around but not much else. Indeed, the mental soap box comes out and my brain and I climb up to share ideas with ..... no one.

In recovery we talk about the value of writing. Ideas run from the brain down into the arm and on to paper. Writing frees the brain from the burden of carrying the regrets, to-do lists, rants, thankfulness. For the addict in recovery, our paper acts as addendum to our souls. A convenience and action by which we can start to be freed of what ails us. But the change from THINKING about blogging or "journaling" takes commitment. Not will power, because that for the alcoholic is a concept which has 'kept us tied to our addictions. Not "I plan to" or "I should", because they are as meaningless as "I'm sorry" to the one who cannot grasp the concept of making amends.

So here I sit, about 1 1/2 hours from the big city in which we live. Not in Sappho's kitchen but in Padda's kitchen. My partner has left me and our four kids, plus our two big dogs, for a short visit. Padda and her partner KingPin, have 9 children (birth and adopted, ages 20 something to 8 something.) They also care for two 1 1/2 years old kids who are temporarily theirs through foster care. Only 7 of the 9 reside here, but having 13 kids ages 14 to 1 1/2 years could be considered chaotic. By some.

I am glad the holidays are over for now. Christmas was a big deal, with pageants and dinners. I volunteered at the last minute to make 5 shepherds costumes for the play our kids were in. Seemed like a good idea at the time, but trying to make up 5 tunics and vests with scraps from home and a few linens from Goodwill turned out to be more daunting than planned. My sewing machine needs help, so I had to figure out why the thread tension in the bobbin area was too loose. I sewed everything in white thread and went back with a brown marker to cover the exposed whiteness against the brown fabrics. (Note to self, no more last minute costume rushes unless I know for sure the machine is working.)

Dinner is ready. The kids are seated 10 at the table with the oldest downstairs watching football on TV. They are asking for the chocolate pudding pie for desert and my 2nd kid is attempting to get around eating his hot dish (Midwest lingo for cassarole.) I and am not alone in this parenting and the kids are going to bed in around 1 1/2 hours. So life is good. And I can cross blogging off my to-do list for now.