There’s this thing at happens when you’re generally upbeat and organized: you end up with less slack. As in, you can’t say “cut me some slack” because you’ve never needed any, so nobody even knows what to give you.

I need a little slack. I don’t know who needs to give it to me. Well, no, I do know. I need to give it to me.

It is not easy. It takes effort and skill to keep your eyes forward, to be at peace with the temporary chaos around you (because it is in fact temporary). It takes a certain level of… Something… To just handle things because you’re supposed to.

Helping your grade-school age kids through a move? It is f’ing hard. I cannot show them how hard it is. I cannot share my worries or concerns–the general ones: Will they make friends? Will they feel like their classroom is something they fit into? Will they look forward to waking up in the morning?

I can only model “optimism and a love of adventure,” and keep my fingers crossed that they make friends quickly, that they are happy, that they are excited.

It’s working. Our daughter said tonight, “I’m excited again. I have friends.” I wanted to cry, I was so happy. I knew she would be okay, but now she knows she’s more than okay. Our son? He comes home and tells elaborate stories about his day, about his friends, he talks and talks and talks. He never used to talk so much. He has three new friends “who follow directions” and are “good,” in his words. He wants to invite them over for a birthday play date. I’m all over it.

Everything is fine. We’re doing great.

I don’t need no stinkin’ slack.