This is what I do when I'm stressed: I become obsessed with some project—embroidery, sewing, photography, and I throw myself at it so that the hours pass without me noticing. Hours where what color or what fabric become the most important thing. Like this morning when Ike asked to paint the sticks he collected at the park yesterday, and I sat for an hour after he was finished dabbing paint on little sticks while he ran around the house with paint on his face and hands, smearing things.
Tonight we have an open house for the Wooden Button. Not the sort of thing I love doing: events, talking to strangers in a group. I don't even go to the playground. But sometimes things must be faced. And I've learned to trust that in general things will develop on their own, as they are wont to, without any pushing and shoving. We do our best, and that is plenty. Hopefully tonight we will find enough committed, laid-back parents to send their children to join Genevieve and Luna in their class at the Wooden Button next year. But if not, that is OK too. Things generally work out.