hi there. i see my GIANT pile of laundry waiting for me, head cocked, hand on one hip as if to say, “well?” right-o. but for now, I will avoid eye contact with it and pretend not to notice as I write this post. shh. my laundry might hear us. and it’s gonna be pissed.
staying home can test ones sanity (see above) in many ways. we went for a walk the other day, as we are often wont to do, not just for sanity’s sake, but also fresh air for the kids and change of scenery. one way of dealing with an incredibly small and cluttered living space is to get out of the house often for little breaks. (or for big breaks if you happen to have somewhere to go). a little walk down the block is often just what the doctor ordered, I find, to bring that little bit of balance back into our lives when things get all in a tizzy.
our neighbor gave ruth an old bike of his nieces that she no longer used back in the spring and it’s been working out great. sure, it’s pink and got princesses on it (what “for girls” doesn’t?) and the front tire needs to be filled with air every time she wants to ride it, but it was FREE, which makes up for all that. miles is now our token baby and rides in the stroller I’ve had since ruth was a baby. sure, at this point it looks like I garbage picked it out of a dumpster after five years of wear, but it’s still hangin’ on. the only loose canon in the equation is joel who oscillates between wanting to be a baby and be carried by me and yearning for big kid status and opting for the trike to match his big sis. sometimes he gets all in a lather, can’t make a decision and then it’s shaky territory on how to proceed. the other day, he settled on pulling a wooden toy train down the block as a compromise. I was just happy that everyone was happy and I could get my feet goin’ a little bit and let my mind wander.
not that I would qualify our little walk as “exercise”. joel was setting the pace with his toy train. you might call it a “snail’s pace” except that I’m pretty sure a snail passed us as we were going.
at this time of year, our block is pretty deserted so there was no one to say hi to or stop to chat with. just the usual hurried motorists careening down the block coming to or from the bigger, busier road nearby. I could see them once in a while catch sight of us out of the corners of their harried eyes and give us incredulous looks as if to say, “are you guys for reasie?? do people still HAVE real childhoods any more? that’s SO 1975.”
when my family and I clash with the public at large, I am sometimes forced to take an objective look at ourselves from their perspective and I’m not gonna lie. from their perspective, we ARE quite comical. “quaint” is what we are. I mean, meandering maternal caregiver taking a mid day stroll with her flock of youngsters all fancy free, mismatched clothes just taking our time, absolutely no where better to be than this piece of sidewalk on this hum drum suburban street? I mean, nothing and no one moves that slowly any more. shouldn’t my kids be at soccer practice or something? or at the very least be taking digital pictures with their iphones or ipads while we walk? I mean, we aren’t accomplishing anything right now. none of us was making any money. I wasn’t on the phone multitasking while we walked. I mean….what a waste of time, right?
does anyone just go for walks any more?
I, of course, say all of this tongue in cheek. I get a kick out of our slow paced life and how out of date it looks to passersby. we are that freakin’ quaint. it’s like little house on the prairie around here. all we need is some giant calico bonnets, hand-sewn dresses and for the kids to start calling greg “pa” and there you have it.
well. I must go. it’s washing day.