one week

spoiler:  this is a post about how I don't have to work in the summer.   So all you haters, back off.   ;)

One week.   I've been on my summer vacation for approximately one week.    And I have started to question my meaning in life.   What is my purpose?

Seriously.    I just chatted with another single gal who is off during the summers and she brought up the exact same topic......so I know I'm not totally crazy.

Apparently when one stops working..... the free time can become detrimental.    

I made an effort to laze around last week.  (because I'm supposed to deserve a break!)  

I slept in some, took naps, read an entire book,  (yes!  I read!), went out to lunch with friends.   

In my free time I obsessed about cat hair in the house and contemplated what 'that weird smell' in the kitchen is.

And in the remaining free time I pondered what I'm supposed to do with my life.

Turns out that free time is unnerving.

Last week, my prayer was that God would make this a summer of clarity.   I prayed that I would be able to relax, enjoy my family and friends, and find clarity in what God wants me to do next.

Today I thought about selling my house and moving to the country.

I've always told the kids that "if I get married again we will buy some land in the country".   

"If I get married again".

And then it occured to me.... why the heck put my dreams on hold while waiting for some man?!
If that man doesn't come along, what kind of regrets would I have?

I feel like getting a Realtor and just having someone keep an eye out for my dream house.     Not that I would jump and move next month.... but if something amazing came along.... 

why not?

Then again, we're happy here.   So why rock the boat?

At this point, I could go either way.
Really.   My life choices are wide open.    I'll be curious to see how things play out.

I've got another week ahead of me before my kids get out of school.

My goal is to seriously clean the house.    Chances are.... that's not gonna happen.... 

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.