moments

and let the Weeping Buddha absorb your sorrows.

I’ve read different origin stories for this symbol. Some say he’s weeping for the troubles of the world, and then absorbing them, others that it represents Buddha as warrior, crying for the son he just killed. The most frequent I hear is that this is a later, more modern invention, and never part of the original Buddha texts/stories–because Buddha was beyond sorrow. That said, I love the idea, to touch his back, and allow the Weeping Buddha to absorb your sorrows, so you can move on. The thing is, day to day problems (real or created) and sadness feel so very personal and isolating, and in my mind the statue represents letting go of that, to connect with others, because, well, Buddha. He’s been on my “list,” you know, the unending, imaginary list of things I’d like to have. Well, yesterday I received a package in the mail from a beautiful friend, and there he was. Thank you!

By yesterday morning I was tired of sulking. I finally finished and emailed a critique I had promised weeks ago, spent some time with Man Child and his friend Miss Music, made a favorite comfort dish for dinner (spaghetti with broccoli, chick peas, and capers), touched base with a writing friend I haven’t spoken with for a while, and began making some notes for a short story I’ve been thinking about.

So. Today is Friday, always a good thing. I think I’m good to meet Fatigue this evening for Friday Night Madness, even better. And while I had my coffee, I was able to enjoy a beautiful sunrise with Art Child.

And a little fusion, for your listening pleasure:

Knock the Door ! (Photo credit: Elias Pirasteh)

Busy writing, busy reading, busy mamaing, busy stressing.

And a bit blue. Probably from all the busying of daily life nonsense, and the need for warmer weather to stay for more than three days. I’m not even going to mention continued problems maintaining a signal to stay online, and the fact that it took 3 hours to post this.

Last week, Man Child confirmed he’ll be staying in the area of his school this summer, he’s got a great job offer. Fabulous on so many levels. Not least of which because that’s my goal as a parent; independent, happy, thriving kiddos. Then he called needing some information because he was on his way to the ER, a kitchen accident.

Evidence – Screaming Woman (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

He was treated, all is well, he even had a long weekend to recuperate. I asked if he wanted to come home for a few days, rest, visit, etc. No, he had plans. No problem, take care of yourself, have fun, rest. This is what I want for him, right? Right?

I love being a mama. I love my kids. I even like my kids. I’m a human being, I have made mistakes as both a person and a parent, but mostly, I feel like I do a decent job. In our house, we don’t run with the assumption that parents and teens/young adults are natural adversaries with different goals. Objectively, I think it’s worked out pretty well so far.

But add over-busy to writing angst, stress, Flower Child missing her brothers, blueness, thinking of how many months before I see Man Child…well, mama brain goes into overdrive. Maybe no matter what decisions Husband and I made, no matter how we tried to parent, we can’t do anything to avert the stereotypical outcome of our kids never wanting to visit, cataloguing our mistakes and couldn’t-dos…. Maybe he’s never coming to visit again!

Okay, okay. Stop being a drama mama, suck it up, be happy that he calls. Plant some new seeds with Flower Child, think about what kind of cake she’d like for her birthday later this week. Flower Child and I were doing our Sunday stuff. I’m sweeping the floor, and the front door opens. Husband hasn’t been feeling great, oh crap, he must really be sick if he left work.

I look up from my pile of dog hair and

Surprise!

It’s Man Child and his friend, Miss Lovely Music. Just for the afternoon, Flower Child and I showed off our microscopic seedlings, they sat for a bit and then they went downtown to run a couple of errands. Came back, chatted a little while more, and then left to surprise Husband for a few minutes at work before heading back to school.

That’s a long drive and a lot of gas money for two broke college students who had to be back at school last night, with no way of knowing if I would have cash to reimburse them (I did and I did).

Thank you.