How am I doing, you ask?
This is me. The embodiment of a walking human natural disaster. Things like this happen on such frequent occasions that they hardly ever ruin my day anymore, nevermind skip a beat. I drop things, trip up stairs, break things, slip down stairs and spontaneously combust 70% of objects I touch on an every-other-day basis. How did the egg get waaaay up on my shirt when it clearly WAS in the pan at some point? I was there and still have no idea. I think the spatula slipped, causing me to flail my arms and hands, which led me to juggle the pan and its contents and spike it to the floor. Did I tell you I can’t juggle? Well I can’t. So the eggs went flying and landed on the brand-newiest shoes I own. Go figure.

“Sometimes you eat your peas, and sometimes you cry”. My three year old son said that aloud in the middle of our nightly battle- more commonly referred to as “dinner” in most familial circles. Yet in our house, with our daughter (who is the oldest of the two and the most picky eater I have ever met in my life since Unky was born) dinner seems more like the 9th circle of hell than a wonderful family gathering. Crying, begging, bartering- these are the usual suspects we find at our table each night. Once, after Bean was scolded from the seventieth time to take a bite, baby brother spoke into the awkward silence that followed: “Sometimes you eat your peas, and sometimes, you cry. ” he said, scoffing a handful of vegtables into his small mouth, losing more to the floor than he successfully gobbled up. Figuratively and literally it was the most true statement spoken that night. Sometimes she ate peas and didn’t cry, sometimes she did and at the moment she WAS crying and he WAS eating peas. It was perfect- such an introspective thought from a boy so young, and instantly we began to giggle and the mood was changed. It still fits too- all the time. Because all of us, no matter where we are in life- sometimes we eat our peas, and sometimes we cry. Or scream. Or break things. Or laugh, dance, sing or fall apart. It is what makes us human, and unique in our natures. Sometimes circumstances that shake our ground are what fuels another to work harder. Some incidents crush dreams while others make us believe in ourselves more than we ever thought possible. At times the falling apart stuff HAS to happen before you can see the need to take a chance, see what needs to be rebuilt or just taken apart and constructed differently than before.  Sometimes we need to lose it all before we realize we have the power to change anything and everything within our life. We need to realize there is no time to sit idly while life careens onward, waiting for the bus to stop when there IS no bus stop.
Does that even make sense?
So there I am. With proverbial and literal egg on me. How did it get up so high?? Honestly I have no idea. I broke a couple eggs to throw a couple eggs away. I cleaned up, cleaned myself up and got back at it. The next two eggs, they didn’t explode or fall on the floor. I cooked them just right.
Sometimes you eat your peas, and sometimes you cry. Sometimes you break the egg and it’s a sticky mess. Yet other times you crack the egg and make the best damn omelet you’ve ever eaten.