Time

The glorious, sockless day we had on Monday gave way yesterday to the longest rain I’ve experienced in months. Today, purported to be partly sunny and with temperatures in the 60s(!), is presently neither, and I’m shivering inside on my couch. I just can’t bear to put on another sweater.

I’m worrying about the boys as, under the premise of warmth, they both wore short-sleeved shirts today. Fortunately they have their fleece-lined coats, and I do hope they have them on. Nutmeg peed in my US Presidents puzzle box, so I imagine he’s been struck by another UTI, a dear friend is sad, and my list of to-dos is miles long.

Because of all that, I’m quite happy to stay inside today. I am vexed as to why there seems to be so much going on right now. Did I get behind during the snow- and conference days? Is no season calm in this day and age?

I’ve been working like a beast in preparation for Em-i-lis 2.0 to go live in the very near future (hint: weekend). That’s surely part of this busyness, and it’s all been a complete pleasure. T and I have been trying to see friends and go out more regularly which is fun too. The boys, largely activity-free, stay up a bit later these days which I know is the normal progression of child development, but it does take back some of the quiet, alone time at night before I must go to bed too.

Oliver’s birthday and party are quickly approaching, and I’ve got swim noodles to transform into light sabers and foam-core and paper lantern Star Wars aircraft to spray paint gray and then detail. T and I have Ol’s “Roots” presentation to give at school this Friday, so I need to bake a related snack for that and then also remember to send cupcakes in next Tuesday for Ol’s birthday treat. Jack is heading on an overnight field trip to Jamestown, so I must remember to get his sleeping bag and gear ready and a bag lunch packed.

Then on to Oliver’s annual well-child exam and some school events before spring break commences a week from this Friday. Why on earth after long winters full of snow days the school doesn’t hold classes the Friday before break begins is beyond me.

In the midst of all this scurrying about, I start to fret. I don’t want to run solely on this wheel-for-others quite so often and for quite so long. I love tending to my family, and I take pride in my home. I enjoy grocery shopping, delight in crafting homemade birthdays for my boys, and don’t even mind doing the laundry because T is so great about folding it all when he gets home from work. But I haven’t seen the off-ramp to Self Time much in recent weeks, and I’m struggling to fit in the cooking and writing I miss.

There are so many things I want to do in this life. I have an abundance of interests, places I want to see, subjects about which I want to learn. I panic sometimes that I won’t get to them all, that if I let things slide, I’ll miss opportunities now and in the future.

Meanwhile, I know how fleeting the present is. My baby is about to turn SIX and will head to first grade in September. I’m having trouble wrapping my head around that one and am grateful he still wants to hold my hand when we walk. My big boy is so capable and sturdy; I mean, what has happened to his feet and legs? All of a sudden, they feel different. I swear. His feet have no pudge, no softness anywhere except for the smooth skin covering them. His calves are young man calves now, muscles and sinew of a completely different kind that remain in Ol’s younger legs. He still tells me publicly that he loves me, and I hold on to those with both hands and a whole heart because even if he doesn’t feel himself growing up, I see and feel it.

It’s tough to hold these disparate truths in the balance I try to strike each day. To appreciate the past, remain in the present and look forward to and plan for the future.

Photosynthetic effective disorder

Friends, I am not wearing socks. This is a pleasure so fantastic I can’t adequately describe it. The sun. The relative warmth. Rivers of melting winter everywhere. I am on cloud nine and have diagnosed myself with Photosynthetic Effective Disorder (PED). PED is closely related to but infinitely more welcome than End of Season Affective Disorder. I have been suffering from the latter for two weeks, but now? PED in the house! Yee-howdy!

Last night, I was determined to make a beautiful, three-course dinner for us and so did. Chicken with oregano, capers and garlic; the roasted carrot with blood-orange vinaigrette and cumin crème fraîche recipe that was in yesterday’s New York Times Magazine; and some couscous with blood orange olive oil. Bellissimo!

Roasted Carrots with Cumin, Blood Orange Vinaigrette and Crème Fraîche

Near miss with catatonia

If the snow had not begun to melt and the sun hadn’t decided to shine and the kids weren’t returning to school tomorrow, I dare say that Tom would come home from work tomorrow night and find me in the basement doing a puzzle, catatonic from craze. Drool would be seeping from one corner of my mouth, a wine glass with a straw long enough to reach my lips would be on the table just to my right, and my left hand would be obsessively rubbing nutmeg’s head, a cat lady gone way-crazy wrong.

Fortunately the sun is melting, the sun is shining and the kids are going to school tomorrow.

We have already been to swimming lessons, Party City for decorative shamrocks and other 6th-birthday needs, and PetSmart for a new Sunburst Wag Platy fish to replace the one who is with us no more. Like all SeaWorld orcas are named Shamu (I curse you and your lies and ill-treatment of those orcas, SeaWorld), our Sunburst Wags are all known as Lightning Strike.

As you might recall, our previous Lightning Strike was struck with Dropsy, put into fish hospice and tended to by Tom, seemed to be on the up and up once back home in the tank and then perished suddenly, just after our new black Molly (the first was named Black Swimmer, this new guy is Darth Fishious; I don’t know why they are treated differently in the name department than are the Sunburst Wags) moved in. We found Lightning Strike stuck to the filter’s intake tube: as if he’d given up in mid-swim and just gone with the tide, right smack into the suction.

Because the sun is shining, I am “spring” cleaning like a lunatic and, once home from this morning’s marathon, even scrubbed the fish tank until its glass walls gleamed. We bought a new plant for our marine friends and things in there are sparkling. Hopefully Darth Fishious and Lightning Strike 2 will be with us for a while. Creamsicle (the orange guppy) and the two neon tetras are strong as steel. I admire them.

The kids are, shockingly, more in love with each other than ever despite having been housebound together for four days. As such, T and I really felt like assholes when, about two hours ago, we looked at each other with wild eyes, realizing across thought waves that neither of us could even stand the boys’ tinkling laughter anymore. We have all had too much togetherness.

I sent T to the gym, escaped to my US Presidents puzzle in the basement and threw the iPad at the kids. If they’d asked to streak the neighborhood, I’d have agreed because they’d have left the house and that equals quiet.

The merciful Saint of Babysitting answered my 911 call to all sitters I know. She who should now be canonized, Alex, arrived twenty minutes ago and whisked my children to the playground. As they left, I thrust a credit card in her hand and begged her to “run their faces off and then take them to dinner.” She agreed, and I am grateful.

She came just in time because I’d started throwing away or vacuuming everything in my path because CONTROL. I am now in my home by myself feeling something remarkable. I think it’s called bliss.