Thursday, March 22, 2007

crisis du jour

Most mornings, when the wheels in my head start turning, I run a quick internal review of the day's agenda and look for a meaty chunk of drama to get me through it. This is a subconscious query, I should add. That is to say, I don't necessarily want to be a drama queen or wear that costume to survive; it's just what tends to happen. My shrink and I dissected the hell out of this dynamic a couple of years ago and devised a list of coping mechanisms or strategies with which to launch my days -- meditating, breathing, focusing on the good things in my life, etc. They actually work most of the time, when I remember to employ them. The problem is that my mornings are the equivalent of a slingshot that snaps off with a "Daddy, juice! Mama, daddy? Ahwon juice, pease!" from the Jackal's room down the hall. How the hell does one find those 5 prescribed minutes of meditation or reflection in a real life morning?

This morning I sort of stumbled upon an answer to that. I'd already thrown down a cup of coffee and delivered said juice to said Jackal. I believe I dialed up the crisis du jour as I was letting the dog out. That's all it takes -- mere seconds. Today it centered around a work-related mess, the details of which I won't bore you with. Suffice to say, my work is not critical or centered around saving lives, so you understand these are not big picture dramas. In any case, I went about the morning routine and found myself stewing in the shower.

Then perspective showed up in the shape of a naked little rug rat being placed in the shower with me.

Last night we hit Alero for Mexican with a friend in town from NYC, and Jack made quite a mess of himself between the plantains, beans, and fried ice cream. When we got home, it was way past the little guy's bed time, so we bypassed the bath and put him to bed. As she left the bathroom, my wife mumbled something about him smelling like fajitas. Suddenly nothing else in the world mattered or existed outside that shower. My beautiful son in his birthday suit with his enormous smile erased any and all negative vibes and reminded me that I have an amazing life that I should savor. The Jackal giggled as he put his head in the stream, then took a step back, pointed at his junk and yelled, "Pee-pee!"

So as strange as it sounds, when any shit attempts to tangle my soul today my mantra is this: Pee-pee!

1 comment:

Jeff Simmermon said...

Dude -- I like this, a LOT. Your fajita-flavored son reminded me of this photoset on Flickr ... some toddlers that got into the peanut butter when their parents weren't looking: