The Art of Becoming

How is it possible that two seemingly opposite truths can hold the same space?  For example: why is it that we got 5 inches of snow a week ago, and then four days later it was 74 degrees?  And why is it, after reaping the benefits of a glorious weekend of weather (dare I say, summertime-feeling-weather?), there are predictions for snow tomorrow.  This means that two drastically different seasons of clothes are needed at practically the same time.  Which is why I'm scrounging the house for summer clothes for both kids while I can't bring myself to pack their snow pants away yet.  Some might call this paradoxical. I find a similar phenomenon exists in my children: how is it possible that I started the day reprimanding Sean, asking him to "turn his day around" with all the whining, crying, and shouting "NO!" only to have come through the morning with an incredibly well behaved kid?  Why is it that Audrey is sweet as can be and silently devilish while walking

We all have our fixations.  Mine is often the fixation of picking something out of the kids' noses, or wiping a runny nose, or getting Audrey's hair out of her face.  I'm constantly thinking about checking for poopy diapers, making sure Sean's pants are zipped, or watching Sean hold his crotch while trying to "keep the pee in."  I fixate on things like Audrey sucking on the child-size Crayola flossing tools because the package says for 3 year-olds and up (what awful things could happen to a 23 month old baby who's sucking on those things??).  I often can't get these fixations out of my mind. Other fixations are trivial, or at least I judge them to be so.  Sean fixates on the things he can participate in: helping to grind the coffee beans each morning, or unscrewing the milk cap from the gallon jug, where we place his tooth brush at night, or how he must have a glass of water and a towel before he even begins to brush teeth, or flushing the toilet.  Ye