Puddles and Playgrounds

Cold and rainy days are perfect for snuggles and Seinfeld. Or sandwiches and Sopranos, depending on who you are. Today my son taught me that days like these are also for puddles and playgrounds.

As soon as he saw the slide from the window he yelled and pointed,

“THAT ONE!”

That one means I must have that/I must go there/We must see that. Reading toddlers wants and needs is a fine-tuned skill. I hope to have my diploma by the time he turns 17.

Since I’ve been wallowing in self-pity for the past 3 days (see Recharge) and haven’t been the best Mom (although, we DID just come from McDonalds, sooooo…..), I figured I owed the kid one.

After decking my baby out in a pair of my socks and buttoning up his coat against his will, we ran to the park in the rain.

“IT’S WAINING!”

No shit.

But he ran with a smile on his face.  He splashed in the puddles for 3.5 seconds, looked at the slide, down at his cold hands….

“I go.”

So, we left. Back to the car we went. No tears, no time lost or wasted, no big deal.

A new rainy day activity to add to my repitoire.  Maybe it won’t be my go-to activity, I’m still a lazy girl at heart. And on the surface, really.

It’s nice to have some options.

Daily Prompt: Stump

When Mr. Wallaby ran down the street that day

Why, not a soul in the town ever saw him that way!

He seemed quite disturbed, maybe even in fright

The look on his face, so pale, what a sight

The townspeople yelled “Mr. Wallaby, stop!”

But Mr. Wallaby did not give the idea one second thought

For he knew what he’d done would never be forgiven

He knew he must leave, a crime he committed.

A brief moment passed, all looking quite stumped

Why would Wallaby leave? What could he have done?

Then they looked down the road, where they saw him run from.

oh no! They all cried and they too turned to flee

For Wallaby had caused quite the melee.

You see

The town, it was magic, for one special tree

This tree, you see, stopped the shortage of bees!

It gave them a home, every single one!

The honey, bumble and carpenters ones!

The townspeople saw the tree, now  just a stump

…………..

what did Mr. Wallaby do?!

 

***that’s all my brain can do at almost 1am**

 

via Daily Prompt: Stump

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/stump/

 

Daily Prompt: Recharge

Another loss. Although it’s my body, it’s not my choice.  They tell me it wasn’t meant to be, that it’s for the best. This baby is in heaven with the others I’ve lost, safe with God, or whoever it is you believe in. I know that it’s true, a life here on earth wasn’t destined to be, this child might have suffered too greatly if he or she could have made it.

The attempts at comfort and compassion can’t take away the ache I have for a baby, to carry, to hold and to love.  But they help.  They remind me to be gentle with myself, take time, find focus and recharge. Because this isn’t where my journey ends.

via Daily Prompt: Recharge

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/recharge/

Balance

Everyone talks about balance. Balance in their lives, balance between work and home – as my doctor says “weight management is all about balance”. Okay Doc.

That’s a skill I haven’t mastered and I doubt I ever will.   I mean, sure, I manage to get it done (Get ‘er Done for my east coast peeps), but I’m too driven by emotion.  I like to live my days out according to feeling. Do I feel like going for a walk? Do I feel like writing? Do I feel like putting on pants? Do I feel like eating donuts? HAH. I always feel like eating donuts.

How does this factor in with a 9-5 life? What if your9-5 stifles your creative need to feel.  What do you do? How do you achieve and maintain balance?

Briana

Briana skulked around the corner of the student campus building, feeling defeated and elated at the same time.  She just finished writing the MCAT after a gruelling year of studying, a secret she kept from her mother and father.  She combed her fingers through her hair mindlessly, playing with each tiny curl (as she often did),  and she thought of them and how proud they would be if she made it into med school.  She also thought how disappointed they would be if she didn’t.  Cringing at the thought, she gave her head a shake as if her brain was an etch-a-sketch and she could easily remove “that look” from her brain.  It was a look that said “I cannot believe I raised you/I know I raised you better than this” simultaneously.  Briana was on the receiving end of that look many, many times.

She took a look down at the pile of heavy books in her hands, the practice tests, the study guides, and the “dummies guide to the MCAT”.  Briana knew she should hold on to them, just in case. Just in case she needed them again.  In case she needed another shot at that exam.

As she reached the far end of the building where the grass meets the student parking lot, she tossed the books into the garbage and flinched when she heard the thump as they hit the bottom of the can.