I just can’t.

It’s true. Sometimes, I just can’t. Not a complaint. Not being pessimistic. Just stating the facts.

There are some things I can’t do. And that’s okay.

I have often struggled with admitting and even embracing this concept. I would (will) tell myself that if I just tried a little harder, I could make it work. I could earn the last few dollars, finish the last few chores, write that stellar paper, fit in one more activity.

But I can’t.

And it really is okay, because there are plenty of things I can.

I can’t get rid of this week-long headache, no matter what I do–I can push past it and take my kids out for an hour or two anyway.

I can’t ignore the overwhelming exhaustion the headache causes when I co push past it–but I can take advantage of having a wonderfully supportive network of friends and a husband who insists that I go to bed early.

I can’t get all of the housecleaning finished if I go to bed early or take that nap I want–but I can at least wash a few dishes and then accept that my house will be untidy for a bit longer. Or, harder still, I can accept help offered and let someone else do it.

I can’t ignore my housework and then give time and attention to writing. Heck, I can’t even talk straight half the time!–But I can flop out an attempt at a blog post, just because I promised myself I would write every Tuesday, garbage or not.

And I can’t get rid of all my A-type, perfectionist tendencies because I would cease to be me–but I can learn to separate the golf balls from the rice (or the rocks from the sand, depending on the take you prefer).

I can’t even make the internet work so I can post this, no matter how many nasty glares I use–But DB can (thanks babe!).

“I am only one, but I am one. I can’t do everything, but I can do something. The something I ought to do, I can do. And by the grace of God, I will.” –Edward Everett Hale

Yup. And for tonight, my something? It’s sleeping. And by the grace of God (and my hubby) the kids will sleep too. Catch you on the other side o’ dreamland.


About Carolynn the Dyer

If I've learned one thing by having three children in four years, it's that babies are not, in fact, the best birth control. ... Okay, just kidding. I've really learned that laughter is the only way to survive the wilds of parenthood, and life in general. Also, that it is indeed possible to do dishes, parent, and carry on a conversation at the same time. If that sounds like fun, or just impossible, then come join me on my blog--and join me in the jungle.
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