My To Do list for today has 32 items on it. This is ridiculous. I know there is no way all 32 items will get done today. I also know that I will spend an unreasonable amount of time fretting about the items that will not get done today.
If I really power through and don’t lose my focus too often, I might get 12 of those items done. Maybe. But many days I spend more energy figuring out HOW I will get things done, more energy stressing about getting things done, than actually getting things done.
Worrying plays a big role in the amount of stress I carry around. I worry about whether the cancer will come back, I worry about the well being of my child, I worry about how we will pay the rent. But worrying only increases the amount of stress that I carry, and it does nothing to help solve the problem. Sometimes I think I’m just worried and stressed because I have become accustomed to being worried and stressed. (more…)
Every once in a while I get the opportunity to do my work at a coffee shop, my favorite place to settle in and get some writing done.
My wallet on the table? That is strategically placed. It’s holding the cord into the computer. That one spot seems to be the first thing to fail on laptop computers. Raise your hand if you’ve ever had to MacGuyver a powercord fix on your laptop.
Coffee shops aren’t just for getting work done; they are wonderful places to do some people watching. The diversity on Capitol Hill makes it one of my favorite places for people watching. I just watched two girls who, from such different outward appearances, looked like they might never otherwise interact come together to rescue a baby bird that fell from it’s nest.
And don’t forget the coffee. That’s really why I’m here.
I kept yelling through the wall that it was bedtime and that she needed to settle down, but she was no where near ready for that.
She burst out of her room, breathless with questions: Could she bring crayons to kindergarten? Will there be show and tell? Is it ok to put the crayons in her backpack?
There were more questions, but I can’t remember them all. I tried to answer them as I could while steering her back to her room.
Yes, you can put crayons in your backpack, I told her. And we will need to get you a new backpack for school.
Her face darkened a bit: “But, my backpack is already packed.”
Kindergarten starts in 78 days.
I examined her backpack with her, and together, we removed the items, piece by piece, so she could tell me about each one.
There were, of course, the crayons. And a piece of paper so she can color on it. She explained to me that she folded the paper so it will fit in the back pack.
She also packed a football because at kindergarten she might learn to “do sports.”
And a red block because red is her favorite color.
And a hairclip in case her hair gets in her face. To me, this last item was most remarkable because she resists all my attempts at keeping her hair out of her face, especially hair clips.
I explained again that we will buy her a brand new big kid backpack for school, because she’d had her old toddler backpack since she was two. So she put it on to demonstrate that it still fits.
I finally got the backpack away from her, and convinced her that backpacks are not safe to sleep in. And she finally settled down and fell asleep – no doubt dreaming about playgrounds, coloring, show and tell, and “doing sports.”
On the other hand, I am still wide awake, marveling at her love of learning, her exuberance, and relishing the fact that we have 78 days left until the start of kindergarten. Also, I’m panicking a little, because there are only 78 days left until the start of kindergarten.
Aaron spent the past two days simmering his homemade ragu. I’d love to share a recipe, but his sauce is an expression of his love for food rather than anything that could be pinned to paper. Two days of simmering, tasting, adding, hand wringing, simmering, tasting, adding, tasting, simmering… a lot of love went into this meal. On Father’s Day, we finally got to sit down and eat it, and it was definitely worth the wait. I’m not sure if he planned to have the sauce ready for Father’s Day, or if it just worked out that way, but I certainly wasn’t going to get in his way. I didn’t have to cook. And the food was amazing.
I’m so lucky to have such a great husband, who also happens to be an awesome dad to our 5-year-old, and an amazing, if occasional, cook.
So instead of cooking, I’m going to round up some of my favorite fathers day posts this year. I’ll tackle the dishes later.
Dale Partridge is one of my favorite writers, and he delivers again with this post on the things dads need to hear.
Suzanne Braun Levine discusses how dads parent differently now in this HuffPo piece. This is something I have noticed myself. I love how involved dads is not only a trend, it’s becoming an expectation, and guys are living up to it.
Hillary from Domestic Bliss Squared pens a letter to her dad explaining how she came to a new understanding of his perspective after becoming a parent herself.
On BlogHer, manvsmommy comes through with a wonderful letter to her husband that said something dads really need to hear, and reminding me that I need to say thank you to my husband as well. He’s an awesome dad, too.
In this TED Talk, Steve Addis shares how a little father-daughter tradition helped to bond him with his daughter.
I definitely need to include my own post: 5 things I learned from my Dad. I wrote this the first Father’s Day after he passed away, but those lessons are still the ones I would pick.
BONUS:
Since it’s Soccer Season as well as Father’s Day, I want to include a post about my favorite soccer-related funny memory of my dad: My World Cup of Father’s Day Memories.
As always, all thoughts and opinions are entirely my own.
I had braces as a kid, and it wasn’t pretty. As if being twelve wasn’t awkward enough, I had braces for years, and they came with headgear.
My dad used to joke about using me to improve the TV’s reception.
Up until the point my braces were installed, I was flourishing as a novice clarinetist. I was in fifth grade, but had worked my way up to second chair in the sixth grade band. Then after my braces were installed, the orthodontist told my mom I would have to stop playing the clarinet. I was not happy.
To make things worse, all those wires and brackets ripped the insides of my cheeks to shreds, and the headgear gave me tear-inducing headaches. (more…)
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