Broken crayons still color

Every new school year when my kids were little they would beg for a new box of crayons.

When I would remind them that we had an entire six bins full of crayons and markers and other coloring devices at home they would look at me with big puppy dog eyes and say but mommmmm…most of them are old and broken. We want fresh and new ones!!

Fresh and new ones…I couldn’t blame them. I mean how many times do we hear...tomorrow is a new day! Start fresh! Leave yesterday behind. And most days we might be able to...but my friends I think some yesterdays seem to find their sneaky way into our today’s and can leave us feeling a little crumbly and not quite whole like those crayons in our craft bins.

When I think back to the early days of my journey as a single mom I honestly don’t know how I did it at times. In fact if I didn’t get a bittersweet reminder of a time hop picture on Facebook every day I might not even believe I did. Some of those pictures that pop up are filled with goofy grins and dirt covered faces and fingers from an afternoon spent at the park (or playing in/eating mulch) and some of them show off immaculately dressed children ready for a random gap kids ad or photo shoot--spoiler alert..those were not as frequent but meh...who's counting right?

Although vastly different, both remind me that not only did I do it, but I think I did it pretty well daggonnit. From the outside I managed to be the bright crayon that would color another's day with outgoing warmth and vibrant energy. When people would comment on how they could not imagine juggling all three kids as a single mom and maintaining their sanity and sobriety, I would humbly say "You could do it too!! We all find that inner strength we never knew we have and I'm just focusing on the good stuff!" and walk away with a plastered grin on my face. The more I would paint that picture for others the more I thought I could believe it for myself. And I would go home and pour my own glass of wine-or 4. However what most never saw was the melted puddle of many emotions that I was still trying my best to sort out. I didn't know if I would ever have it all together then-and I still don't now. The difference many years and bottles of Kim Crawford later, is that I have learned to give myself permission to be a little broken and melted.

Some days I was burnt Sienna. You know the one I am talking about right? The pissed off crayon from the book "The day the crayons quit". Not quite orange, not really brown. The one they would reach for if I asked my kids to draw a picture of our dog Indie's poop after she devoured a fun size laffy taffy (that "no one" left next to the couch). It's meh. It's just there taking up space in the box.

Others I was Magenta. Vibrant, confident and bold. The color that has the courage to start a business from the ground up and not let anything dull her brightness out there.

But if I'm honest, most days I felt more like the old triangle crayon block that we had when I was a kid. It was a mix of many colors and sometimes they all bled together for one big surprise of what would scribble out on the blank page in front of me. Like a turd colored raspberry if you will. Or maybe a pink chocolate covered cashew for those of you who just barfed a little in their mouths. As much as I wanted to only be the enviable color, my life also resembled the way a small creek looks like after a big rain-all the mud has come up to the surface and I wanted to just wash away the ugly parts.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words and there were days that looked like the scene in the horror movies when the little kid draws the big monster that is haunting him and eating his soul-ok maybe that's a little dramatic but let's just say they were dark and sad as I navigated my grief in waves. Others were full of laughter, rays of sunshine, kitty butts and fluffy puppy tails-also an exaggeration but you get my point. I could see the bottom of the river clearly and knew even when the next storm came, that muddy feel was only temporary.

There are many days we feel fresh and re-newed and ready to take on the world like a modern day June Cleaver in combat boots. We may turn up the music in the car a little louder...our souls dance a little more freely and we take to heart the cheery message the magnet on aunt Linda's fridge that had said something like.....

<---------Wait...that was only my family. oops I mean--------------->

There will be many days of warmth and sunshine (unless you live in the midwest but that's another rant) and our fair-or seemingly unfair-days of grey and cold. We need to remind ourselves that our lives are a collection of many pictures encapsulating both and it's ok if they are all not bright and becoming. Some of the best works of art known to this world are created of muddy browns and burnt siennas. However we are focused on the beauty of that masterpiece as a whole and knew it probably was far from perfect on someone like Da Vinci's first try at it. If he were here today I am sure he could pick apart the Mona Lisa and point out the "flaws" only he as the artist knows exist. I'm not naive to think he most likely broke a few paint brushes over the final product but he still kept painting. He didn't let a broken piece ruin the whole masterpiece.

<----Yep not really sure what that says bc the closest I get to french is either fries or toast so I am going to make the assumption that it goes a little like: So keep on coloring girlfriend. Keep coloring until that last broken nub of your crayon finishes your own work of art. Hang that sh*t on the fridge (with aunt Linda's magnet) and be just as proud of every messy scribble and every perfect line for that picture is your life...and we only get this one. Dance in the burnt sienna mud puddles with your knock off hot pink Hunter rain boots (just not in our yard bc you might find a hot landmine from the pooch) and remember these are all a part of YOUR masterpiece.

(little jerks.)