Sunday, May 5, 2013

05.05.2013 -- To a Screeching Halt

This blog has been around for around 5 years.  I'm not the world's most consistent writer, but I think that it's been rare that I've failed to post for an entire MONTH.  Maybe it's not just me, then.  Maybe I really am busy.

What if you and I were sitting together, having an intimate conversation...  and I said to you, "This soccer mom thing is not for the faint of heart."  Would you think less of me?  Would your suspicions be confirmed?  Would you avoid me in the future?

But really, what would I mean by saying that, anyway?  Context would help.  When this thought occurred to me, it was a very busy week.  Taxes, favors for friends, violin lessons, violin practicing, soccer practices, soccer games, gymnastics, preschool, doctor's appointments, mailing stuff, fulfilling commitments, homework enforcement, reading enforcement, laundry, food prep, etc.   And, I kept thinking to myself, I only have three kids!

We got through that week pretty well, and I was almost ready to declare myself a success.  But then, guess what? Charlie got the stomach flu.  He threw up for four days.  He had a zillion dirty diapers (I counted them).  And once Charlie stopped throwing up, Gabe got something that seemed like food poisoning, and then a day after we stopped worrying that Gabe might be sick, Lucy came down with a fever and chills.  (That was a run-on sentence because it was a run-on week of sickness.) Things slowed down very quickly.   Having to stay home and say "no" to almost everything was sort of nice, but also made us all stir-crazy.

We finally we're all better just in time for some really fantastic weather, so we've been enjoying being outside.  I decided to build up a little garden plot in an area that was just dead space before.  I based my attempt off of the idea of hugelkultur.  It's not the prettiest garden bed, but it was 100% free, so it has a sweet spirit.

I also decided to plant a rose bush.  The fact is:  I like roses.  I like the way they smell, and I like the way they look.  I know some people of impeccable standards and character who do not like roses because of their thorns.  Without roses, though.  We would not have this:

“The little prince went away, to look again at the roses.
"You're not at all like my rose," he said.
"As yet you are nothing. No one has tamed you, and you have tamed no one.
You're like my fox when I first knew him.
He was only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes.
But I have made a friend, and now he's unique in all the world."
And the roses were very much embarrassed.
"You're beautiful, but you're empty," he went on. "One could not die for you.
To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you
–the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she's more important
than all the hundreds of you other roses:
because it is she that I have watered;
because it is she that I have put under the glass globe;
because it is for her that I've killed the caterpillars
(except the two or three we saved to become butterflies);
because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled,
or boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing.
Because she is MY rose.”
                                                                          ― Antoine de St. Exupery 

To my embarassment, I fell asleep in church today.  I would probably sleep better if I didn't have a two year-old who thinks it's funny to put his fingers up my nose.  Just sayin'.