messy. crazy. amazing. joyful.

We're not all officially ADHD. Dad's unofficial. Our ten-year-old twins have ADHD. Our seven-year old wants to have it because everyone is always talking about it. Our three year old has ADHD--just because she's three. And me, Mom, I think it's contagious. Who can remain untouched in a house where shoes seem to be lost every morning, instructions are routinely thrown aside, and fights erupt over which continent capybaras come from?

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

A Little Escape

Cello girl

If you ever need a fanciful flight from my or your ADHD-riddled life, you might like to visit my cousin Kirsten’s blog. Here you will see three darling girls with braids, bows, or buns in their hair; green cardigans, polka-dot skirts, bejeweled necklaces; glasses that are not bent nor crooked nor splotched with dry liquid ovals. The girls play the cello, the piano, the violin. And they love it. They draw and color their own paper dolls. They stroll along country roads. They cozy up next to their mother and cross stitch—probably for hours, all the while humming a happy tune. Nary a laceless, holey shoe will you find in this dwelling. Not a guacamole-encrusted light saber. Not a three-day old peanut butter sandwich stuck to the wall. In short, it is not my house-- just the one I imagined before I had children.

Her blog is a little escape from my galaxy of chaos into an enchanted fairy world. To be fair, her kids are older, they are all girls, and I have one more than her. You will not hate her and covet her neuro-typical life. You will enjoy her perspective. She is honest and funny—a great writer. She, like any mother, has her moments: her ups, downs, in-betweens, and scorpion catching exploits. And I LOVE her photos. She shares all the beautiful things she finds and creates. She has a little Etsy shop with some darling prints if you are so inclined.

Sweet tooth a

I say all this about escape from my world because I do need to escape from it sometimes, but never would I escape for—well, probably more than three days. In fact, I was away last weekend, and I missed my crazy family with a longing that normal people probably feel. (I was away two weekends ago also, and I felt guilty for not really missing them. I needed a chance to breath. So I felt happy that I missed them last weekend. I am not a cruel, self-absorbed, unloving person. Yeah!)

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