My month-long marathon of rehearsals and shows is finally over – show, closed; makeup case, put away.

Now to deal with the clean-up.

Both girls are at the uttermost edges of their limits: patience is worn thin, tempers fray easily, fears pop up in an instant, separation anxiety is back in spades. Cora’s constantly telling me I “do too many shows” and “too much Pilates teaching”, and Maddie simply weeps and clings to me when I leave the house to work.

Everyone’s told me that the girls will be fine; that it’s healthy for them to see me do things other than “be” a mommy; that they’ll pop back into “normal” in no time at all. And I believe everyone, for the most part. Kids are resilient creatures who can bounce back quicker than adults from any situation, and this past month has been a wonderful time for the girls to drink deep from the Daddy well. They’ve reveled in their time with him, and he’s given himself wholeheartedly to them. So the month is not some irreversible fatality that’s hit our family.

But it is a bomb detonated in our midst, and the fallout will take some time to burn off. I’ve got mountains of clothes to wash and fold and put away; vegetables to introduce back into our daily diet; bedtimes to re-affirm; discipline to re-instill; and a house that simply needs to be picked up and shaken out and put back together again.

Time to get the house in order.

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