"And now, cried Max, Let the Wild rumpus start!"

I promised to  name my blog after the first song I heard that made sense to me.

Entire. Inspire. Down to the last wire.
She was a fountain pen.  -Sufjan Stevens "Woman at the Well"

I don't claim to be a writer. I don't claim to have much in my head worth reading, but I do know that these thoughts that filter through my noggin need direction and so here. we. are.

I won't waste space today on my history or which roads I took to get here, because this is where I stand and that's all that matters.

The thing that is on my mind tonight is refuge. I wear alot of hats. No more than most moms my age, but today I found myself needing a space all my own, and since that isn't a physical possibility, I'm clearing out some clutter in my mind for room to just be still and be me.

Sometimes I forget that I have a responsibility to preserve the parts of me that I'm proud to be. The parts that maybe don't get their time in the sun like they should. The artist and the dreamer and the out there girl that has learned to be mostly happy in her skin after a billion or so years of fighting it. Somewhere outside of this screen I'm busy being all the things I'm needed to be. I spend days at a time wearing scrubs and my hair restrained in a pony tail driving a car filled to the window sill with football gear, movies to be returned and the debris of a million other errands to be ran.It's a full on MARATHON keeping up with Mr. "Wild Thing". 

 I'm not the "with-it" kinda mom I brush elbows with at school functions.  I have the best intentions, but somehow, I'm always rushing. Always a little behind schedule and missing half the things needed to get through the day. But we do it. We're that 2nd place team happy to be getting a participation trophy. We survived the season and found a little bit of fun among the chaos.

I envy them, the moms that can find BOTH shoes in seconds flat. I have a plan to get there in the near future....it of course starts tomorrow.