The gospel at church today was about humility. I found it to be one of the more difficult concepts I’ve attempted to explain to the boys. They thought it meant “embarrassed” which means they were probably confusing it with humiliated. I often find that explaining complex concepts to them is like opening a Russian nesting-doll. Each word I use to explain something inevitably leads to the explanation of another word then so-on and so-on until we’ve lost the original concept entirely. Today we discussed modesty in relation to humility. What it means to have an unassuming estimation of one’s own abilities. If you make a good play on the baseball field it means you made a good play. It doesn’t mean you’re suddenly the best player on your team or that you won’t fail the next time. It is perfectly fine to be excited and to take pride in doing well, but it’s not fine to boast and brag about how good you are. It’s a lesson I hope they both take to heart going forward.
The best 30 minutes of my day lately are those between when I wake up and when I have to wake the boys up for school.
Not every day is terrible.
I am, in a word, exasperated. Yesterday was one of those days. One of those days that makes you question everything. What am I doing wrong? How do I continue to fail so terribly? How can I improve? How can they care so little?
The day ends in tears, self medication, and with the bulk of myself wanting to give up. I lie in bed hoping that tomorrow will be different. “It’s a new day,” I tell myself. Maybe they’ll snap out of it, I think while folding my third load of laundry. I run down the list in my head: Psychiatrist, Therapist, school Social Worker, family meals, parent-teacher conferences, and meetings with the Principal. It’s everything they say you should do. What have I missed? There must be something I haven’t thought of.