Transitions

Transitions are like....

....running full speed into a brick wall. 

....taxiing on a runway full of speed bumps. 

....riding the Tilt-A-Whirl at the county fair after you've eaten a snow cone, three bites of cotton candy, a funnel cake, and a pulled pork sandwich.

....poking your eye out with a very dull knitting needle. 

....being trod upon by a heard of baby elephants.

In case you're wondering, at the MOE house, transitions really stink. No matter what we do to get ready for them, they are about as smooth as the pot-hole filled roads around our house this time of year. It can be a good change, a bad change, a big change, a small change, an unexpected change, or a long-awaited change--the transition will still stink. Which is why it's even more ironic that we live a life so riddled with transitions. There are the moves, the new schools, the new friends, the new doctors, and the new therapists. Then there are the surgeries (lawdy, the surgeries!). If major surgery meant simply that one member of the family was laid up for a bit, it wouldn't be so bad, I guess. But, what surgery really means is that one member of the family is gone and then back but generally incapacitated, and then slightly re-capacitated, but not really, and then back but living a new normal. Some of the kids handle all of this change in parental status okay. One of the kids does not. Besides these major life changes, there are also the transitions that come with everyday life. Each new semester brings a new schedule, new classes, and new time constraints, for example.

Of course, most ironic of all is that if Ren or I exude even an iota of stress, Sky will sense it and immediately mirror it back to us a kajillion fold (which in turn increases our stress level exponentially). One of these days, Ren and I will learn to be totally zen. That day is not today.

To cope, I turn to metaphoric language (actually the ones that started this post are similes, but it doesn't sound as good to say "I turn to simile-ic language"). Somehow metaphors make things better.  Look:

To transition is....

....to die a thousand tiny deaths, all before breakfast.

....to apply your brakes five seconds too late. 

....getting stuck in molasses only to have someone pour quick-drying concrete on your feet. 

....to remove all the oxygen from the universe until the whole world turns blue. 

See what I mean? I feel better already! Who says hyperbole isn't healthy?