My SleepWalking List

Sometimes we have to go for a “sleepwalk.” Joey boycotted his normal nap time so in an effort to save our family-dinner planned for later, he got duped into a mid-afternoon siesta. The walk is good for me too. I’m forced to clear my head of unwanted thoughts and refill it with things that make me happy, smarter and more whole. Epiphanies like these come to me:

Old Cars Are Unsexy Like Old Men

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Photo by ActonFordblog.com

If you’re driving a Model-T-era car it’s impossible to look hot. Whether your a guy or a girl, you’re just not sexy. Your car is equally as unsexy.

Musings in the Cliche

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It took me one mile and a fence-climbing morning glory to finally kick my writer’s block. I stopped to take this cliche photo (was going to use the hashtag #clichephoto when posting to social media) and I finally let my brain relax enough to work.

Room to Grow

I really need to let up on myself. I’m admits some big life changes right now and I can’t expect to have it all figured out just yet. I need room to grow. It’s ok not to be perfect. I can stop second-guessing everything. Wait, should I?

Shut Up, He’s Trying To Sleep

I hate you motorcycles.
I hate you barking dogs.
I hate you creepy guy in pick-up truck who beeps the horn.

Learning to Swing (Again)

Not actual baby. 🙂

Yesterday I took Joey IV to Foote Memorial Park for some fresh air and because I am struggling to drop my last 20 pregnancy pounds because a good walk would do us both good.

Joey IV slept like a lump in his stroller and I had lots of time to let my mind wander as I circled the park lap after lap, the smooth pavement guiding my way. I thought about Joey IV hanging like a loose rag doll in the stroller – he’s too small to fill out the big bucket right now but I know soon enough he’ll be busting out of that nylon harness. I wonder as I push the stroller and let it slip from my hands and glide on its own in front of me, if he could actually somehow slip out of the safety device. I know this is not possible and I catch the stroller after one and half strides and I push him away again.

I try to enjoy the warm breeze from nearby Long Island Sound and listen to the birds nesting and visiting the bountiful trees of the park. I try so hard to “be” in the moment but I am not very good at it. My mind quickly slips to my most recent preoccupation, my occupation, and I think about the future. I think about my career. How will I juggle Joey IV and work? Will I be good at being a mom? Will my job change? My mind races and Joey IV sleeps in a deep, peaceful slumber.

I round the corner past the tennis courts and as my mind wanders thinking about how I’ll never be someone who plays tennis, a gathering near the swings shifts my attention. A father pushes his new child who is maybe eight months old ­– I am still really bad at recognizing the age of children by the amount of chub in their cheeks – and a mother stands in front of the swing documenting the event on video. A grandmother is nearby beaming. The child, who may have special needs, appears to never have been on a swing before and he is laughing and shrieking with joy. He is smiling with lips stretched as far as humanly possible. I am so touched realizing that this woman has captured this experience of sheer joy and elation on video. At that very moment, all four of them are “in” the moment and I am pulled in as well.

Joey IV and I emerge from the scene for one last lap around the park and we stop halfway to sit under the shade of a tree. Joey IV is still sleeping soundly but I gently pull him from his harness and sit him in the grass with me. We both listen to the sounds of nature and I notice the beauty of the tree bark and the way the light dances through the leaves. I hope Joey IV can smell the earth and enjoy the way the wind dances across his skin. The moment is short-lived but for the time I am really “in” it and I quietly thank the baby on the swing for reminding me how to just “be.”