the real nanny diaries: purple or otherwise- go stomp in it

this is being blogged from martha & bros. coffee- one of my second homes, a cheers of sorts, everyone in deed knows my name. check them out they are around the city and all owned from the decents of the same family. and family they will treat you as there own. 10 minute quick write for the word- disorder-written after a good few days of rain. kind of how i feel in this fog. 3 days in a row of sun. please universe send me one more day. i need it. there are no puddles to stomp in.


Disorder. I forgot about the disorder of the rain, the raindrops, the disorder of cabin fever of the young. I used to get it all the time when I was a kid. That feeling of both nostalgia and crazy into one. You want to run outside and jump in the puddles and get wet. Lift your eyes up into the air full of rain. The moisture feels good at least at first it does. It does. But then you get too wet or someone doesn’t let you outside and then you are stuck indoors for hours -sometimes days. I forgot about the disorder caused by rain until today.

Today when I walked into Kid Space a place for occupational therapy, therapy kids style. The type that most kids with extra privilege learn how to grow muscles and multi-task and hold a pencil. As I walked into the waiting room, I remembered the disorder. How I had forgotten? All these kids, kids were losing their shit. You could feel the energy of the raindrop disorder everyone is miserable-everyone crying visually or with looks in their eyes. Everyone wants something they can’t have. Have. They long for either a run outside, a stomp, or just a juice box, or a game of heads up 7 up. They want their parents to stop talking and telling them what to do. I am sick-they say. Give me fresh air- they mouth to me. Let me jump in a puddle-they sign. Bring out the sun lady. Because this raindrop rain cabin fever disorder makes you batty, makes you crazy, and the adults around you don’t know what to do. To do.

So I looked around the room and I remembered. This disorder will only last so long and soon these kids and these adults will be normal. Again. Normal. The disorder only strikes when we aren’t walked properly or watered enough or sun hasn’t shone on our roots. There is no way to get rid of it. Rid of it. Except the disorder will pass, pass like many of the disorders I study. Have studied in myself, in others, in strangers. I try to understand the order of those around me. The disorders of those around me. We name them, we say them, they pass, they come back. But what are we really talking about? About.

With the rain, it’s about freedom of the air. Freedom itself. But the other disorders might not be very different. The freedom to not worry about about the ills of life and what you have inherited or your childhood or your love life or any of it. Maybe the disorder is trying to organize it all perfectly. We can’t stop the rain, we can’t stop heartache, we can’t stop the laughter. The disorder might be the controlling. Instead let us let the drops fall down on our heads. Cabin fever is our enemy and the air of rain filled cloud our friend. Some might call it a disorder but it might be the only order I have ever known. Splish. Splash. I say.