Blueberry blues

This week has been a long and fuzzy one. And yet it's actually been quite short. We got home on Monday, late afternoon. I spent the evening in a state of intense irritation roasting and freezing a bushel of red peppers. ("Stay out of the kitchen. I'm sorry. I'm just really irritable right now." "Yeah, I already know that, Mom.")

The following morning, I took the kids to Vacation Bible School. Total flop. One day was more than enough and I did not send them back again. Albus's first question, when I picked them up: "Mom, what are sins?" Warning bells ringing loudly. Apparently, the language was heavily weighted toward sin and enemies and the devil and death angels (no joke). I have a fairly high tolerance for religious language, but no. Just, no. I can't abide the belief that we are born full of sin, fallen. I believe we're born human, and we will all make mistakes, and we won't always be right. But we're not stained by our mistakes; what a terrible and debilitating concept. What a staggering lack of compassion, to see our errors and the errors of others as sinful. Mistakes are inevitable, and come with great potential. We learn by them. We learn pain. We learn to forgive. We learn compassion. We learn critical thinking. We learn to say sorry (and to feel it). We are strengthened by discovery, and discovery comes through trial and error.

So, long story short, no "free" babysitting this week.

I spent all of Tuesday canning a bushel of tomatoes. The kids had to entertain themselves for the afternoon. Albus was helpful, AppleApple, too. Summer has had the effect of bringing the siblings closer together. That's a beautiful thing.

Wednesday was a scheduling day. My babysitter is back from Germany and we reunited that afternoon, but I hardly got any writing work done. It was all about the fall schedule, an intricate piecing together of interests and activities. I should have gone for a run afterward.

By yesterday, I felt fuzzy-headed and exhausted. But blueberry season is almost over, and there is an organic patch that friends have been raving about all month. We had to go. It looked like rain, and then it did rain, and then it cleared again. And the blueberry bushes did not disappoint, absolutely laden with fruit. We picked 14 pounds without really trying. More fruit to add to the freezer, and AppleApple and I made blueberry "hand-pies," which ended up being too sticky to eat by hand.

But despite this positive and happy activity, I had a moment of panic late yesterday afternoon. I'm having a breakdown, I thought. Why? Because I was paralyzed by the thought of supper. Something had to be made, and quickly, because AppleApple had soccer practice; and my brain stuttered to a halt. Pasta plus rice plus potatoes? Is that really what I had on hand? Thankfully, I recovered, retrieved hamburger from the freezer, made a rice/hamburger/zucchini mash-up, boiled potatoes and grilled them along with eggplant, and boiled a pot of sweet corn. All's well that ends well.

While standing in the kitchen paralyzed, it came to me: I need to exercise. I need to run. I need to stretch. I need alone time. Daily. This week, I've been so busy preparing for winter (canning and freezing), and planning for fall, that I forgot about today. It's not about training for a triathlon; it's about a daily practice of restoring and maintaining sanity, and peace.

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