Have you ever had a weekend where you did nothing in particular, but felt like you were doing a lot? We've had one of those weekends and I'm still not sure why. We only did two things really: went to Shakespeare in the Park Saturday night and to a birthday party this afternoon. So why, then, does it feel like we've been crazy busy?
Perhaps it's because of the travel during the week. I was in Atlanta, GA on Monday and Tuesday unexpectedly for a conference on employer retiree healthcare funding, which is about as fun it as it sounds for most people, but given that I've worked in Medicare for a while now, was like being in healthcare geek heaven. VEBAs, 115s and CDHC, oh, my!
Anyway, that sucked away last Sunday night, all of Monday and Tuesday, so the week was short. Then Saturday morning was spent at the playground, a well-deserved and much-needed reward after Ragsy tolerated me running a gazillion errands first. The energy he burned off (and forced me to burn off, too) was a bonus. We went to Faust park and, after playing on the playground for a few minutes, he was off like a rocket toward the lake. We ran there for a while, then ran back to the playground, climbed for a while, then ran the opposite direction toward the historic recreation of a farm. We ran there for a while, then back to the playground where he at last admitted that some water might be nice and wanted to sit in the car.
People say that your kids reflect you in strange ways. His inability to walk when running is an option is one way my childhood comes back to haunt me. I still remember running until I wanted to drop - down the street, down the little landing strip where crop dusters used to land, but that's now covered by a Target, then zig-zagging through the cornfields. I would reach the old abandoned house at the very edge of the field, touch the gnarled old tree that grew beside it, only to turn around, walk for a few minutes, the corn reaching way over my head, then decide that walking was too boring if I was still capable of running. Then I would run all the way to Rachel's house or the ditch where we collected snails or home where mom was waiting for me.
Anyway, Saturday night, as I said, was spent at Shakespeare in the Park. It was a lot of fun and something that I think will become a family tradition. I didn't realize it, but we've taken Ragsy on precious few picnics. That alone was a trip for him. Add in some jugglers, singers, dancers and a stage and he was in heaven. The trip to Ted Drewe's didn't hurt, either.
Then today we went to a birthday party where he spent almost the entire time running. And running. And running. We had a great time and Ragsy barely sat still long enough to eat a few bites of pizza, then took off again. The only thing that kept him in his seat for any length of time was juice and cake. By the time we left, he was asking to go to sleep on the ground. He lasted about 10 minutes in the car before he finally wound down and conked out.
Even though I feel like I've already been busy, I still feel like I have a lot to do. Cooking for the week, cleaning up, laundry, prepping for tomorrow (yes, I actually set out my clothing and get my lunch ready the night before; otherwise I would never find my pants and I would be eating fast food all the time, so they wouldn't fit anyway). I also need to start searching for a dresser for the baby's room.
I get a little nervous about this baby occasionally. Sometimes when I'm by myself, I forget that I'm pregnant. I forget, then I panic, wondering if something has happened to it. I did that while I was in Atlanta, even though I can feel the baby move every once in a while. I think that's one reason for all the doctor's appointments - to calm pregnant women down when they freak out. I wasn't like this with Ragsy, so I don't know why it's different now. But it is.
Anyway, off to get some cooking started before Ragsy wakes up. He's been helping me in the kitchen a lot lately, but it'll be nice to cook something without dodging little hands or asking someone to get away from the stove.
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