The Sequence of Life

I know it seems like I spend an enormous amount of time playfully mocking the insanity of my two children but you should know that
a) I'm probably mocking your children too....well, not probably, I am. 
b) this is my way of pointing out the ridiculous in parenthood which no one realizes is so fraught with land mines and quicksand until they're choosing between the field of land mines or a nice dip in the quicksand.
c)it is all out of love and if you don't believe me, then ask any member of my family (and expect a semi-sarcastic remark because they're too busy for this kind of lolligagging and flapping of the gums).

The truth is parenthood looks nothing like the outside when you're on the inside which is why I was stunned the other day as we wandered around the waterfront.  A biker saw one of our kids doing something he did not like ( I think it was throwing acorns) and he yelled at the child and then yelled to us to Say Something! all as he swiftly rode by on his bike.  Ahhh, drive by parenting can give you such a rush a righteousness. Righteousness Junkie.  But he's right.  I should have said something.  I should have said something along the lines of Dude, you really suck or Wear a helmet, you jackwagon.

So, yes, I mock in a sometimes vain effort to not lose what is left of my very tenuous grasp on sanity. Don't leave me, Sanity, you're all I have left! But I just don't do it all of the time.  I bet it makes up a good 30% of my day although that figure really fluctuates depending on what Flannery decides to wear and if Emerson has regressed in his ability to open and then shut a drawer. And then there is a good portion of my life that is absolutely and unequivocally in awe of my children.  And here's an example.

Flannery is a prolific writer.  We have notebooks filled with songs (and some just good song titles) and half made chapter books that are loosely based on the Fairy series by the dreaded Daisy Meadows (who wishes she wrote as well as Flannery). But one night while still in kindergarten, Flannery sat in her room and without a single word from me or question for me, she wrote a "letter" to her future teachers.  She had developed a little concern over whether she would be as happy in 1st grade as she was in kindergarten. It was one of the first times that I had seen her genuinely nervous.  She does fake nervous like a champion...along with fake sad, fake indignant, fake sweet and fake confused about having to clean up after herself.  She showed me this letter the next morning and I was stunned.  She wrote it all by herself and she took it upon herself to share it with her teachers when school started this year.

Here is Flannery's Sequence of Life: