My Own Circus

For example, 7 toddlers running amok around my house no longer feels like total chaos.

But I digress.

I often like to 'play it by ear' but there's always some underlying thought process rationalizing the unplanned plan. This need for control, or some sense of it, is a constant struggle for me, which is why I adore and embrace the mantra "not my circus, not my monkeys." I've sat through many meetings and attended multiple events where repeating this incantation was my tether to sanity. My rallying cry to accept (or at least a plea to myself to accept) the chaos and release control because, let's face it, I never had any to begin with and any catastrophe that befalls is not. my. fault.

But then, the unthinkable happens, as it so often does. One morning I woke up to realize my life had become a circus. This IS a circus. MY circus. Welcome, Ringmaster. And guess what? That little half-me running around that everyone loves to tell me looks "just like his father" (seriously? I carried the kid for 9 months, birthed him into this world, and THAT'S the thanks I get?) is, in fact, MY monkey. If I'm lucky, he'll refrain from embracing his natural monkey instincts to sling poo around the house, but regardless, that little creature is MY monkey.

And so, I've embarked on a new journey. One of acceptance. Acceptance that this is my circus, these are my monkeys. And there's not one damn thing I can do about it. Except embrace the experience and enjoy the ride.