Happy Labor Day!
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| Communing. |
Why are you reading this today? Go! Go outside! Good God, man, it’s almost winter! (However, if you’re not reading this until Tuesday or later, I’m quite hurt- wounded, really- at your disloyalty.)
There, now. I think I’ve sufficiently alienated everyone. Onward!
The reason that I’m able to post today is because of my daughter’s proclivity towards 4am Beanie Bear tea parties in her crib. Thusly, she faceplanted at an ungodly early 10am for her nap, freeing me up to do all sorts of things like blog, sweep the stairs, and French braid my hair. (But aren’t you exhausted, Keely, you ask? Nope! But Peej is! As I’ve stated before, my Mama Bear-like aptitude for hearing when my child is awake has not yet been fully realized. I don’t hear her. P.J., however, has not slept through the night since grade school and is aware of block parties beginning across town. He’s ZONKED tired.)
Her early nap will actually serve us well, as Peej scored seven buck tickets to the Cubs game for this afternoon. Nora’s never been (and has a superbly cute hand-me-down Cubs onesie!), and the last time I went…was when I was nine months pregnant with Nora. (Sports!) We’re only a few miles from Wrigley Field, and since the air is feeling all crisp and autumnal, it’s gonna be a much better time than if we had gone during the past few weeks. (I think the combo of humidity, discomfort and athletics would have forced me to have a tantrum, kill a man, and eat all of the jumbo hotdogs in the surrounding area. The last still may occur. There’s this one stand that sells ridiculously loaded footlongs that you crave in your sleep. For example.)
Other highlights from this long weekend included brunch with Peej’s cousin and her husband, which facilitated a full-on clean of the house (which allowed me to ease up on chores/ease up on demanding that P.J. do chores the rest of the time…which everyone likes). There was a three hour family nap. A slow hike through the forest preserve up at Peterson Park (during which time my child found the only wood chip/dirt pile incline in all of the 46 acres and proclaimed “slide!”) and had a picnic. A major Craigslist posting for all of the free/crazy reduced items which we just need to get out of the downstairs/closets/garage, and which- strangely- is yielding positive results and non-crazy people actually taking our things. And, nestily enough, we’re blazing through the Important Things checklist for The Monkey and his/her room. Plus, we’re mini-seriesing through Mary Poppins before Nora’s bedtime each night- and she could NOT love it more. Spoonful of Sugar, jumping into chalk art, waiter penguins, sliding down banisters, girls named Jane, it’s all like it was tailor made for our kid. Sure, I’m getting a little weary of singing each song eleven times in a row, but the vigorous applause is pretty sweet.
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| Bleeding. |
It’s almost enough to make up for the nightmare-inducing guilt I feel over watching my daughter trip into the coffee table and bite clear through her lip. Especially since she was running towards me. With a stack of books in her arms. And a cheerful grin. Happily announcing that she and Mommy were gonna read. And I was a split second too late to catch her. And the blood- oh God, the blood.
She cried for seven seconds. I cried for half an hour. She assured me that she was “fine,” especially once the bleeding let up and she enjoyed a lemon Italian ice for the better part of an hour. (I think she’d willingly do it again for another Italian ice.) And later we rocked on the hammock and she fed herself fistfuls of mint and raspberries from the garden. So I know she’s okay.
She has been accused of being too pretty- a fat lip will give her some street cred. And it’s good for her to have some stuff to tell her future therapist.
You’re welcome, Nora.
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