Busy and Disjointed, Just Like Life
This is a crazy time of year! We’ve been outside for softball and baseball games in all sorts of bizarre weather. Add to those games and practices: Boy Scouts, ballet, talent show practice, altar serving, library story times, and a bevy of forms that came at me for class pictures, yearbooks, and other stuff I’ve since forgotten, and it’s a wild ride. Luckily, the beautiful sunshine has energized me.
My two-year-old is testing the limitless of his two-ness. “Active” would be a pleasant euphemism for his full-on, cray-cray behavior. He’s constantly darting off in various directions, leaving me, or when I’m lucky, an older sibling, trailing after him. Unfortunately, once you capture the little varmint, he goes boneless, sagging all over the floor until you either dislocate his shoulder or release him, which typically results in a conk to the head.
Seriously, if this kid makes it to the end of the day in one piece, I’m rejoicing. Never has a child harness looked so good, although I don’t think it can fix the boneless thing.
In the space of a week, he’d darted toward the street while I brought his sister through the fence gate, tumbled head-first from a four-foot retaining wall onto solid rock, and hatched an escape plan from our fenced-in yard through the shed, out the alley, and into the neighborhood. And, thank God, he’s okay.
While I drafted this post, he got into my change purse, shoved two pennies in his mouth, then gagged them up, laughing.
Sending profuse prayers of gratitude and beseeching more favors from his guardian angel, who’s working triple overtime.
(My little guy makes these kids’ predicament look ridiculous. Look how they’re calmly walking across the bridge, safe in each other’s embrace. My son would be dangling off the side, laughing gleefully.)
No one told me when they plopped that first little seven-pound bundle of baby boy on my belly what all it would entail. I, Carolyn Astfalk, am completely unqualified to shop for protective cups. My husband has been little help on this matter, and I’ve since decided he will help the girls shop for bras when the time comes.
I flat-out refuse to by a brand called NuttyBuddy. I ended up going with this. (I was going to post the picture, but in my mind’s eye, all I could see were social media posts and Google searches showing the Shock Doctor protective cup next to “Carolyn Astfalk: Relevant Fiction for Body & Soul.” Selling books is already an uphill battle. I don’t really want to be know as “that jock strap lady.”
For the past couple of weeks, my husband and I have been been circling the property, inspecting all the budding bushes and trees and shoots sprouting from the ground. With the patio project only reaching its completion in late fall, this is our first glimpse of the landscaping’s spring beauty. The biggest disappointment is the Hawthorne tree. (See below.) We’re still holding out hope it’s just a late bloomer, as many trees are this year.
We’ve decided to build our family’s summer vacation around my niece’s wedding, which means we’ll be vacationing in our hometown. It’s kind of an odd thing, but our visits are typically short and jam-packed, so this will allow us to visit places the kids have never seen. Or I’ve never seen. I lived in Pittsburgh for almost 22 years and never visited the heart of the Strip District.
10 Minute Novelists hosted a fun Run Walk Write 5K event. In a 24-hour period, you walk or run five kilometers and write five thousand words. It sounded good for the mind, body, and soul. I signed up right away, then proceeded to fail miserably. I trudged around a large farm complex/exhibition center and never bothered to record distance. We were all sorts of busy with kid and family activities, and I barely had time to walk or write. Maybe next time. It’s a great idea.
I bought a digital voice recorder to safeguard my random and fleeting thoughts when I’m on the go. Holding it in my hand and murmuring into it makes me feel a little like a secret agent. I fear it looks a little creepy though, especially when hanging out at a child’s birthday party. Sometimes pen and paper still beat all.
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