You know when you haven’t done something for a really long time and you decide to start doing it again? It’s a process I think has been referred to as “getting your sea legs back”. Well, I don’t think I’ve ever officially had sea legs but here I am, trying to get them back.

Since I’ve last posted, a lot has happened. Bot will be four in a few short months and Matty is well into his first year of Kindergarten. Yes, we decided to send him. Many wise moms and friends shared their advice and experiences with kids on the cutoff, and at the end of the day – with a strong prayer for kindness and reassurance from the best preschool in the world – we sent him.

This morning, Matty asked me stay home a little longer instead of going to get a coffee and so I did. For the next 15 minutes, he sat on my lap. We just talked. When it was time for us to go, he stood on the curb waving and blowing kisses to me as I drove away. An hour later Seth called and told me Matty started bawling as soon as I was out of sight.

Today is only the second day I’ve spent counting down the hours, watching the clock wondering what he’s doing and if he’s okay. The first day was the first day of school.

So, I’d say the transition has been harder on me than him. But if I’ve learned anything in my five years of parenting, it’s that I don’t really know anything.

And so here we are.

Sea legs. 

The other day while eating a ‘dirt and worms’ ice cream sunday, Bot screamed, “HEY! This isn’t dirt! It’s Oreos!” as though he was genuinely offended. I guess I’d be offended too if I’d eaten a turkey sandwich several times before realizing I was really eating jelly? That’s the best analogy I could come up with. Dirt, cookies. Turkey, jelly.

It’s kind of the same, right?

Sea legs. 

Marriage is for the birds. Unless of course you get married and commit to staying married, then I guess it’s for you. Seth is still the same old Seth. I am still the same old me. Parenting is still tricky and marriage is apparently still for us – even though, admittedly, neither of us enjoys it 100% of the time.

Evolving with another person is weird, man.

Sea legs. 

Bot attended his first college football game a couple weeks ago and both of the boys partook in their first tailgate. They peed in the trees, ate deliciously unhealthy food, drank Yoohoos and Capris Suns with the best of them and “had a catch” with their Dad like tailgaters do. I feel bad they’re going to be Hawkeye fans because it’s a practice that takes real dedication and ages you ten years in one. But if nothing else, I’m confident they won’t expect to get anywhere in life if they’re felons or cheaters or plain old late for a team meeting.

In my opinion, that’s really what it’s all about.

Sea legs. 

It’s hard to write about my life and not write about my children. It’s hard to write about my children and it seem like they’re not my life. It’s hard to know what is right to share and what is wrong. It’s hard to predict what might offend some and delight others. It’s difficult to bite my tongue and feel like I’m not staying true to Abbott and June. It’s difficult to not bite my tongue in a world where everyone is triggered by literally everything.

Sea legs.

In world where it’s very possible there may not be any winning, put your sea legs to good use.