Whiplash

In the spirit of full disclosure, this post is eventually going to end up talking about the sweetest pair of finches (warning).  But first (with a lot of capitalization because all of the feels right now)...

Can we just talk about the whiplash (of course)?  Also, I haven't blow dried my hair for around 3 weeks now and probs don't have to for another 15.  It's quite a weird feeling walking out of your job on March 13 and then find out later that you won't be back until the end of July.  Perhaps this is something like what going into labor early feels like.

Let us not fall too far into the words before we pause for a moment of silence that the library is closed for at least another 2 weeks.  How does one prepare for this catastrophe?  We hoarded and stockpiled a solid 2-3 weeks worth of reading material and now we're either a) going to go rogue or b) blow the budget on supporting independent bookstores.  Actually, it's really more of c) a little bit of both A & B. 

For those of you who have wondered through my house and have gazed upon our bookshelves and thought to yourself "Why in the world does this erudite lit-ite person have oh, so many John Grisham books?"  For such a time as this, folks.  For such a time as this. 

(I've been stockpiling these books for about 2 decades AND IT'S ALL PAYING OFF.  Also, I read a 400+ Grisham thriller in 2 days.  That's crazy fast for me.  Meanwhile, today I have struggled to keep my attention on 60 pages of Alice Walker.  Sometimes Walker speaks words of truth and I will carry on to the end of this one, but sometimes life demands all of the Grisham because ESCAPISM IS OKAY.)

My child "has no books to read" even though I'm looking side eyed right now at about 8 that we snagged from the library the very day before it went under for the season.  My child.  She has some ability to be exclusive about some books and then decides other perfectly lovely books fall under the category of "I want to read these, but I really want you to read them to me."  Positive:  YES, PLEASE.  I love reading out loud to them still.  Negative:  My child is at times bouncing around the house like a listless pinball at times.

BOOKS & CARBS.  That is what we are collectively running on for hours at a time throughout our days.  But the sun and the springtime have also been poking us hard in the ribs time and again these past few weeks and we laugh out loud and shout "You got us again today, sun & springtime!"  When, oh when have the sun and the springtime been more definitively needed and outright worshiped?  We have filled our lungs with crisp, sunny air.  We have been cataloguing the burgeoning leaves with pictures on the phone so that we can flip through them quickly and watch the leaves emerge.  We have been glorying in the daffodils that always seem to surprise us in the various clusters around the house. We have been playing game after game after game of monkey-in-the-middle because when we live on a cul-de-sac and there is only one other house with young children in our vicinity, we basically get the run of the place.  And to this, we shout AMEN.

I have also wondered a half dozen or so times now why, oh why in the name of all that is good and right in this world do people enjoy running outside?  There are hills.  There is wind.  There is sticky humidity at times.  What genetic malformation do I have that I prefer a treadmill please and thank you and please turn on the HGTV so that I can forget that I'm running between commercials?       

Then The Boy ran with me today in so far as we shuffled along at his slow rate because he is sloooow right now.  It's not like I'm fast, but I quickly realized that this would not be one of those times where I huff "I'm about to die" as he defaults to coach mode.  (This has happened.) But this was one of those blessed afternoons where time slipped by and it was so nice just to chat (which you can do if you're running at a pace where even the neighborhood dachshunds were gaining on us).  Truth be told, this was the first time since The Elder was born that we went out for a jog through the neighborhood together because we've never felt capable of leaving the girls behind for 30 or 40 minutes.  But they were busy and The Elder has been staying home all school year for varying lengths of time by herself and today was the day.  We tested the waters a week ago with a 15-minute walk around the neighborhood.  Today started as a 2-mile run that ended up being almost 5 for me.  The Boy maxed out at 3 and beat me home.  And then my children locked me out of the house because they're funny.

Also, do you know what quanrantining does to a family?  It causes the mother to insist on taking everyone out for ice cream (curbside service, folks) followed by sitting in the car in a sunny parking lot while The Younger nibbling ever so slowly on her 1 scoop and The Elder criticizing the same benevolent mother's choice of wearing the-perfect-quarantine-daily-outfits-ever.  I have finally culled my wardrobe to a handful of perfect t-shirts, perfect running (and all-day) leggings, and the perfect hits-in-all-the-right-places-while-also-being-the-perfect-length sweater.  The Elder thinks I look ridiculous apparently.  I'm just gathering pictoral evidence on her daily attire so that way we can revisit this conversation in 5-ish years.  I'm patient.

And so there you are: a bunch of whiplash.  Much like this bunch of sentences, we're all over the place of late.  But the girls have never been better friends, the sun has never seemed sunnier, and we have a pair of darling finches building a nest in a tall pine tree shrubbery thing outside windows that I look out a lot of late.  I don't love the shurbbery, but it's ideal for nesting bird-o-s, like the fab pair of cardinals who hatched a sweet little chickie last summer.  I have never studied the finches much before, but they're hard to miss as they bring back bits of nesting material (while Papa Finch keeps guard way up on the tippy-top of the shrubby thing) and since they hang out a lot in my very favorite tree.  Just hanging out.  As we all are.  Yet they are adorable. 

I, however, brought 24 mini croissants, 2 loaves of sourdough bread, and 1 bag of enormous soft pretzels into this house today.  I am not adorable (ask The Elder).  I am carb loading.  And I am carb loading while chasing patches of sunshine around the house while clutching book candy to me.  This may very well be what life is meant to be right now.