taking our time

It's been a good kind of uneventful over the past month.    Atleast for the three of us.

We are surrounded with news of deaths, sickness, loss of jobs, and a whole lot of shitty stuff.

 Just for a while, I want to sit in my little ordinary bubble with my kids.    I am feeling blessed at the moment, yet a small fraction of me assumes that the other shoe will drop any day.

After five years, the poor lil' widow me has fallen out of the spotlight.    And I'm okay with that.
Every year, I think that I'm getting better and better.   This year I'm feeling stable, but next year I'll probably say I'm even closer to that 'normal' that I long for.
 'normal'.
ha.

-My house is in order. (if you exclude the boys' rooms).
-My yard is in order. The leaves have become a chore, but a rewarding chore. I intend to win.
-My money is in order. I just signed up for an awesome budget program. YNAB. I intend to be a better steward of God's provisions.
-My schedule is in order.  I've learned to cut the extra fluff, yet I'm still busy in lots of good ways.   I'm not sure how all of our days are filled with activity....and my kids don't even play organized sports.  I can't imagine what this solo parenting would look like if they did.   
I count my blessings for now. 

This would be a perfect time for me to start house projects.
This would be a perfect time to buy that house and land in the country.
The boys and I dream.
maybe.
one day.
This would be a perfect time for me to ride off into the sunset with Mr. Right. (and I guess I'd take the kids too).

I drag my feet.
I just want some time to be uneventful.

I drag my feet on moving to the country. (because honestly, who would hang the curtains and hook up the washer and dryer?)
I drag my feet on the house projects because then, chances are, I'd meet someone and we'd move.
Am I really ready to move?

My friend asked me the other day, "are you really ready to date?".
My answer, "probably not".

It's a great idea.   And if it happens... super! 
I have an uncanny thought that I'll end up with a friend of a friend who has five kids.  I'm still working through the details in my head about how I'll transport them and feed them.

Every time I make a meal and count out three plates from the cabinet I feel a sharp tinge of loss and pain.  That feeling never fades. 
Three is not supposed to be our number.

I threw away an old blanket the other day.  Only to realize- days later -that it reminded Lucas of his Dad. 
He cried.  A lot. 
I cried too. 
I screw up.  A lot.
This moving forward thing is a challenge.
It's nice to know that we can take our time.  God will make all the other stuff work out. 
In time.