I know — it’s amazing I’m a writer after a headline like that. I had a great post planned for today — I’ve been working on it for a bit, writing a line down here, changing a word there — but I haven’t finished it, and I don’t want to do it halfway, so it’s more pink sox today, folks.
In my defense, last week was vacation week, and all my spare brain cells were in heavy rotation losing at Connect Four, convincing my son that when bowling, the ball doesn’t score bonus points if it goes in someone else’s lane, and missing my daughter as she flitted about with her friends. And then today … the dryer broke. It made a noise like a jet engine at takeoff and refused to spin a cycle further.
I was supposed to research new dryers today, or at least research a way to get the even older dryer that lives in the basement upstairs and functional again, but then a friend called and talked me into a walk. (She’s very persuasive.) And we walked, and the whole time I was yammering about dryers and small children and not watching the trail so we got lost and had so much fun finding our way again that I forgot about wet clothes and electrician bills and everything else. I just walked and laughed and tried not to trip up and go sprawling.
It was a good reminder. February’s almost over, which means that spring is coming, and then school will be out, and while I live for summer vacation, it’s bittersweet. It means my kids are a year older, another grade down and another step further down their own path, which will be separate from mine. My son has learned to read this year. My daughter has grown into her own self a bit more, and I can glimpse, through the oncoming years, the person she’ll become.
That time’s not that far off, and I know these days are precious. All I can do is wander with them, point out the obstacles that could make them stumble, and enjoy the journey. Hope we forget how fast the days are passing, and laugh.
Sometimes, when people say GAH! I say something about fog being thick as peanut butter. But no one ever laughs. Why am I such a misfit?
It’s the genes. (Or maybe, depending on what you are wearing, the jeans…)
You’re a wise woman Liz.. Enjoy these days while you can.
The older they get, the faster the days seem to go, Fran. I wish there was a secret for slowing time down.
Gah! It’s past noon, and I haven’t even taken a walk. You’re up on me.
Yes, but I bet you have clean dry laundry!
You are awake and adorable. I’m such a fan.
Well, definitely awake — my son took care of that at 6:30 — but with the piles of laundry, not so adorable. I’ll take the fan love, though!
Thanks for the reminder to slow down a little and take those walks…my thirteen year old is zooming past me so fast…leaping ahead with reckless abandon, and all I can do when I look at him is wonder where my little boy went when I wasn’t looking… all mixed up with the fierce pride I feel when get glimpses of the man he is turning into. I imagine it will be just as hard when my 11, 9, and 5 year olds start running past me, too…..Gah! is right!!
I’ve been thinking about your comment all week, Lynn. For me, watching my youngest grow up is almost harder, because he’s a boy and thus turning into a very different animal from me. His changes are so much more obvious to me…
Do you find exercise slows time? It seems to for me, or perhaps it banishes the bitter from the sweet.
Good luck with the clothes drier. We have twenty-five year-old Maytags and I’m dreading the day they go.
Jan, the secret is that exercise only makes time SEEM to go by more slowly. : )