Dinosaurs walk among us

I find it kind of ironic that I’m a writer by profession and a photographer by hobby and still the least favorite activities to do with my kid tend to be those that use the most imagination and creativity. “Momma, you be the mommy dog and I’ll be the puppy!” *Groan* There’s also the “Momma, let’s play restaurant!” and “Momma, let’s play monsters!” And many more. (He reserves, “Let’s play superheroes!” for Daddy, thankfully.)

Given a choice, I’d rather play a board game, put together a puzzle, create Play-doh critters, color, conduct a science experiment, read a book, ride bikes, or some other more straightforward activity.

I wonder if it’s my mulling tendencies that create the problem with the free-for-all play style. Or, rather, my lack of spontaneity. (Never pick me for a game of improv! Sure, I write, but I spend time thinking about what I write before I submit it. I generally dislike having to come up with a headline on the spot. I can reel off a few options that I’m not so sure about, thinking I’m sure to come up with something much better if I have some time to think about it. So when he wants to do role playing, I start thinking, “Ack. That requires way too much on-demand brain power!”

I’m trying to get over that, though. So when he asked to play Rescue the Dinosaur tonight, I broke up some sticks to create a “river” and he brought over a rock to be a “boulder” and we flew the helicopter over the raging rapids and rescued that darn dinosaur.

I ran

20090320-dsc_1493I was sooo nervous yesterday. I never thought I’d even register for a race much less have a number pinned to my jacket and a tag on my shoe to record my time. I chatted with my coworker Laura as we waited for the start. It was just surreal to be standing there with thousands of other women, all of whom seemed to know exactly what they were doing.

When the group surged forward, I went from nervous to excited. This whole pack of people was running together toward a goal. I watched Laura trot off at her pace and I was happy to hang back with the slower runners, hoping I’d last a few blocks before having to take a break.

But I surprised myself. I ran along comfortably and found I was actually making my way through packs of people and running comfortably at a faster stride. And I felt this great connection to the people I was running with, exchanging smiles with them and giggling at some of the women who made comments like, “Are we there yet?” It was like one big happy family going out for a jog. And then there were the bystanders cheering us on. I was feelin’ the love.

Then someone shouted out, “You’re at a mile, ladies! You’re looking great!” And I thought, I just ran a mile and I still feel good. Woot! I think I knew at that moment that I would be able to make it the entire way. That in itself may have given me even more adrenaline. I was fairly bursting with happiness through the rest of the course because I totally exceeded my expectations.

I had happy little tears in my eyes when I crossed the finish line. Yes, I did.


Yesterday I had an enormous laughing fit. You know, when you start laughing, for some possibly not even funny reason, and you can’t stop laughing no matter what you do.

The trigger? I dropped a bag of cat food and it startled my cat Maggie. She’s nervous to begin with, but when the bag came crashing down in her near vicinity, she was trying like heck to skedaddle out of there. In the way that the cartoon characters try to find traction to flee from a scene.

Something about that struck me as funny. And I started laughing. And I laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed. Tears were rolling down my cheeks. Maggie was long gone, hiding in some corner and waiting for me to disappear. I laughed all the way up the stairs to the kitchen. Where my husband eyed me with suspicion and my kid grinned. I could NOT stop the laughter even then. I went into the living room and buried my head in the couch pillows for a few minutes before I felt the giggles subside.

I haven’t done that in ages. I suspect I should do it more often.

Fuzzy wuzzy

We had a gorgeous fall weekend. A little warmer than I might like when tromping around in a corn maze, chasing a 4-year-old who thinks its quite funny really to try to lose his parents in the corny chaos. I was indeed able to relax. Amazingly.

Visited a new coffee spot in K-zoo (and a favorite one this morning as I was heading out of town), did a little window shopping (who can spend money these days?), went rollerblading while my mom took a stroll, read three magazines and several pages of my newest book selection, watched two episodes of CSI (love!), took an evening walk with my mom in the yummy fall weather last night, spent the day pumpkin-patch visiting and bike-riding with my kiddo, and enjoyed a delish dinner grilled by my husband.

Le sigh.

I see you

One of Dev’s favorite refrains is “Play with me!” Even though he just spent hours playing with his friends at school. It’s nice to be wanted, of course, but I can’t relate to his desire to be constantly engaged with someone else. We’re both only kids, he and I, yet we obviously have different ideas about personal time.

For me, personal time is hard to define. That’s why when I tell my husband that I want some time to myself, he doesn’t really understand what that is. He encourages me, though, with suggestions of going to the book store to have a cup of tea and read a magazine. This is a good idea, yes, but I return home a couple of hours later to the various sets of needy eyes upon me, human and animal alike.

What I need is an entire day. To myself. And I can’t remember the last time I had one.

So I’m going down to visit my mom tomorrow and I’m staying for a day and some change. There will be much talking and hopefully a visit to a coffee place I’ve heard good things about. I will be responsible for nothing other than being a good daughter, which has always been fairly easy with my mom. She’s swell.

I will miss my guys. And my girls (the pets). I will not regret having a bit of time for me, though.