The Sock Basket

I can handle the big stuff.  At least that is what I tell people.  I also tell people that it is everyday life that I cannot handle.  Details, directions, meal planning, laundry, to-do lists, errands, bill paying, structuring, returning library books...they all do me in.  I end up running around like a crazy lady who hasn't brushed her hair and feeling like I am forgetting something or someone, all the time.

Proof of my "homeless chic" look that I sport after particularly long days with all of my children.

But when the shit hits the fan, as they say, I shine.  My mother gets her opiates messed up and ends up in the hospital, I am your go-to girl.  My husband's job is in limbo and we're not sure what the future holds, suddenly I am a half-full type of cheerleader and supporter.  

Even though I feel like everyday life has driven me to madness, I am exagarrating a bit.  It really has just driven me to be very unorganized and look like I am laid back.  It may seem like I don't care that my hair is not brushed or that my socks don't match, and I am not sure if I do or not.

Today as I was suffering through my crunches in my exercise class, I looked up and discovered I was indeed wearing two different socks.

I laughed out loud.  Later, I did a little sock inventory and discovered I wasn't the only one in the family wearing mismatched socks.

The baby Wade displays his mismatched socks.

My son Peyton's painfully obvious mismatched socks.  Thank god he wasn't wearing shorts to school today.

Here's the thing, maybe I don't care.  I think it is funny.  Either I am more laid back than I think or I am so crazy I am laughing at anything. So here's my confession (I am about to get very real here):

Of course the baby has mismatched socks, because I gave up on folding socks together in the laundry.  I just throw all the little baby socks in the "sock basket" in his room.  Guess I consider him lucky that we remember to put socks on him in the first place.  Matching?  Well, that is just too much.

The handy Sock Basket.

Laid back? Not so much.  Adapting?  Yes.  Surrendering? Hell yes.

Even though the details get me down, I am a big picture kind of girl.  And I know that when it does hit the fan, it doesn't matter if your socks match.

"It's okay to wear two different socks" appears on a page that Wade tore out of one our favorite kids' books.  Maybe the baby was trying to tell me something, or not.  I framed it and hung it in his room.  Now it is going to serve as a sort of family mission statement.  It's okay, they are just socks.