Friday, April 20, 2012

All Dressed Up: Let's Go, Ryan!

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Spring Surprise!

Ok, you guys need a break from my depression, and this morning, so did I. But I especially needed to run outside and cover my electric lawn mower with a tarp, because, hello! It is spring! It rains! And it started to. (Good news- I did manage to cut my grass a few days ago. I just failed to put the lawn mower back into the shed, because a bunch of crap I had shoved in the shed to protect from the snow that never arrived fell over as I pulled the mower out. And you know what a pain that is.)

So I dashed outside to save my mower, since I have already killed one, and being the distractible give-a-mouse-a-cookie type, I noticed the sandbox I bought last year has completely deteriorated (what do you mean, composite is supposed to last forty years? It didn't make it six months!), and the new one (ok, its a wood vegetable bed, sue me) is still in the car. The plot where it belongs is scattered with the remnants of plastic box, plastic sand toys that got left out, sand, and lots of weeds. So I decided those weeds should go before I put efforts into cleaning the plastic shards up and putting up the new box, even though it was raining. Lightly.

So I reach down, grab a good handful of weeds, and pull.

There is this moment in life when your brain registers in your mind that something is amiss, just before you really understand what is amiss, that sets you at the edge of a chasm of fear and oblivion, because you are at the brink of Unknown Terror. It is that moment that can grab your lungs, squeeze, and creates this really amazing sound, for which we have no truly appropriate word.

Something was amiss.

And it was alive. In my hand.

Grass, weeds, and small northern brown snake took to flight from my palm as I screamed like a little girl.*

Now, you can place that next to your picture of me doing battle with turkeys.

*He was not harmed. I am not afraid of snakes, except for copperheads, so once my brain registered is was, in fact, a snake, I was fine. I made sure he slithered away smoothly and happily into the weeds around the base of my lilacs before not pulling any more weeds and heading back into the house to Do Something Else.

Sunday, April 15, 2012

Three Minutes.

We were at the park. We've been spending a lot of time at the park lately, because going farther involves a lot of prep and anxiety, and I just haven't been able to do it alone anymore. The park is familiar, the boundaries well-set, and I can actually do a little writing or grading or whatever. You know, he wanders about doing the Joey thing, and I sit in a set place where he knows I will be, and do the Mom thing. And Andy runs about doing the Andy thing. And I do a regular headcheck. Child one, child two. Child one, child two.

Today, I looked up doing my headcount, and three boys who looked alike (must be brothers or cousins) were headed straight for me. This is never a good sign; and sure enough, they complained that Joey was cussing at them. Joey's explanation was that they were "being mean" and "ignoring me." So we had a little talk about how some people are not interested in being friends, and we should just leave them alone. Then we talked about not using bad words, and that we had been having this discussion all week, so it was time for him to be suspended from the Wii for the evening. Then he bounced off with instructions to tell his brother we were leaving in ten minutes.

And I finished up reading the paper I was grading, about three minutes, and looked up for a head check. Child one....

No child two.

I gathered my things and headed over to Andy, asked him if he could see Joey. After a brief look about, the answer was no. He ran up the hill. No Joey. The park realized I was looking for Joey, and I started getting reports. He had gone up the hill. He had been seen on one road. He had been seen on the other road. He certainly was not here.

Andy ran ahead to check the car, the other adults spread out in a search; and I called JoeyAndyDad to get him on the move. We agreed for me to jump in the van with Andy and start along the familiar path home.

In another minute, I had the call from JoeyAndyDad- Joey was found... he had made it about 4 blocks, 2/3 the way home. He must have run part of the way, and started out as soon as I released him to find his brother.

My world just contracted a little more.