It's never-ending. "Can we go fishing?" It doesn't matter if the wind is blowing the trees sideways. 
"Can we go fishing?" It doesn't matter if there's a thunderstorm rolling in. Notice he never asks if we can clean the house. 

My kiddo had a doctor’s appointment last week, and I had the biggest epiphany.
We are often asked how things are going. Family, friends, doctors, and the people who check in on us with so much kindness. Almost every time, I assume they mean his health. That feels like the obvious answer.

I have no idea what I'm doing as a parent. 
I know my kid knows I love him. I know he knows right from wrong. I know he knows kindness comes first. Beyond that, I am making things up as I go. 
With summer here, my kid wakes up checking the weather forecast and wind prediction. Apparently, fishing has changed since I was a kid. I remember pressing a button, aiming toward the water, and hoping for the best. 

There were so many ah-ha moments during the three hours I spent mowing while putting on a free concert for the birds. 
But first, earlier this week during therapy we went over all my "what ifs". Every time I brought one up, my therapist responded with, "even if." 
What if I oversleep? Turns into, even if I oversleep, my son will still get his meds, just a little later. Simple. Annoyingly simple, actually. 

I swore after my best friend got married years ago that I was done being a bridesmaid. If I was ever asked again, I would kindly decline and offer my assistance from behind the scenes. 
Then my bonus sister had to go and get married... You can imagine my enthusiasm at getting out of my sweatpants and into a dress.

It ‘twas the night of the ‘Liz  U-line magazine review’, which is a very official event that happens in my house where I spend more time than I should flipping through pages of things I will never, under any circumstance, need.  
Admiring boxes in sizes I can’t justify, check.  
Being floored by the things you can shrink wrap for a lifestyle I do not live, check.  

There are some things in life that simply do not need to be shared. Not every thought needs an audience. Not every opinion needs a Facebook status. And  not every household incident deserves a Snapchat. Sometimes silence is the healthiest thing we can offer the people around us.

Sometimes lessons need to be learned firsthand and not verbally. 
Like Easter. My heart and mind just could not get into being around big crowds. And like the best little sister I am, instead of using my own mental health as the reason, I used my brother’s instead. Because everyone struggles a little, some of us just do not share it. 

Round two of working calves is my favorite for many reasons. Smaller group, smaller calves, and a whole lot of ridiculousness. 

I’d like to say last week started strong. It did not. 
It started with me waking up five minutes after my kid had to be at school. Not five minutes before we needed to leave, nope. Five minutes for his para to worry the worst. She is the only one allowed to judge me. I carried that guilt like a backpack full of bricks, because one small slip on my part affects more than just the two of us. 

The turkeys needed turkey food. A barista told me chicks are back, so when it was oddly declared that the guys would go get feed for the animals, I made them promise on the turkeys’ lives they would not come home with anything that breathes, peeps, or requires a habitat. I learned that lesson the hard way. 

My pops had his branding this past weekend and somehow my sister voluntold me I was on grill duty. She claimed she had no experience with a grill. I tried to explain that my experience, one extremely charred T-bone steak and one melted siding on a house, felt far worse than her no experience at all. 
Somehow I still ended up at the grill. 

“Hey, Mom… Next weekend… no wait. Next tomorrow… ugh, no… next… ugh. Next week today.” 
I asked, “Next Thursday?” 
He nodded. “Remind me I need to call Papa for cake… what, not cake,” he laughed. 
He knows the words he wants. They just aren't where he left them. Sometimes he grabs the wrong one and out comes a completely different word. I now notice how often I grab the wrong word myself. 

I was cooking supper. I know, shocking. It was breakfast burritos, and I only did half the work. Pro tip: call them protein burritos, and they become healthier. 
Anyway, my husband reached up to grab something that was hung up and calmly asked if I was upset with him. I said no. Then he calmly asked when I did laundry last. I said Saturday. He followed up with, “Why were you upset with me on Saturday?” 

My dining room table has officially been promoted to “corporate headquarters".”Judge all you want, you organized, color-coded, label-maker-owning people. As that callout came out, those who know me know I am all of those things with my label colored organization. Most days.