where my blog title and nat'l poetry month meet - it's lovely

Ride a cock horse to Banbury Cross
To see a fine lady upon a white horse
With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes
She shall have music wherever she goes

I flatter myself, there must be a few people who ride over to see me occasionally just for fun and amusement. I know a few of you do. (to whom I say thank you, so very much).

My white horse has long since fled. But that's okay, because I'm in the market for transportation that can move more than one or two at a time.

Lest you think I'm vain, it's Ben who thinks I'm fine, which is a nice thing for a husband to do.

Of course any bells I had on my toes have long been abscondated* by my children who now wear them themselves. This happens in motherhood. Things you once thought of as your own suddenly are not anymore. But this has been beneficial to me because I can tell when they are trying to sneak up on me and catch me unawares - bells come in handy like that.

The rings I keep because, well, I'm sort of a sentimental person, so things like engagement rings and wedding bands tend to hold some meaning for me, so I keep them. If you were tired of your own rings and wanted to send them my way, I might pawn them, of course, but they would still hold a special place in my heart.

I still have music wherever I go. It's just a very different soundtrack than what it once was, sometimes dissonant, mostly harmonious and I wouldn't trade it for the world. Sometimes I do ask if we can move on to a different movement, though. You know, variations on a theme never hurt anybody. Or rarely did, anyway.


* yes, I know abscondated is not a "real" word, but if you go back in time and meet the me from several years ago in a language class I loved where I learned new and exciting ways to diagram sentences, I will tell you about morphemes and other such things and how abscondated is perfectly valid. Or I will look at you oddly and tell you I am not married, have no small children and haven't the foggiest idea of what you're talking about. Also, what in the world is a blog? It sounds ugly.

it's the little things

My list of things that need to get done is slowly overwhelming me. Even the essentials like being a relatively decent human being to my family - it's slipping through the cracks.

My sister reminded me of the story of the husband who comes home after work one day to find the house in less than desirable condition and asks his pregnant wife what she did all day. To which she replies "Today I made a lung." And of course, once that is said everything else she could have done, and everything he did, fades into the background as, if not insignificant, at least to a distant second place.

I should say Ben is far less ignorant of my strained condition, and far more tactful and helpful than the above husband. It's me who needs the reminder. I can't say I enjoy my dimishing capability to do just about everything, except watch old episodes of The West Wing, but there is a very good reason for it.

At my most overwhelmed I'm not sure that the trade of a burgeoning body for one more little person to care for will be much of a switch as far as my energy level is concerned. But I know that isn't true. New little people bring with them far more joy than trying to pick up toys with the impediment of a huge ball you commonly refer to as your belly.

But until that switch is made if you need me I can probably most easily be found crawling on the floor taking care of what I can and trying not to look too pathetic.


P.S. In full disclosure, I should say I have some backup showing up soon. My (another) sis is coming for a few weeks to help out here at which point I may just permantly retire to the bed and Target alternately, and that will be Heaven. Or as close as I'm going to get in my current condition.

check that calendar again

I thought yesterday was Friday.

All day, even once I figured out it wasn't really Friday, I still tuned in to radio programs I listen to expecting to hear their Friday stuff and was constantly disappointed. Not only that, but the cantaloupes I bought had over-ripened under my very stuffed up nose and I had to throw two of them away. And the garbage folk had already come and hauled stuff away. Which is why I thought it was Friday, because they normally come on Friday, but since today is not just Friday, but Good Friday, I suppose they decided to come on Thursday instead. It's thrown me off. And now my smelly melons get to sit in the garbage until Monday. I hope the squirrels stay away. Did you know in New York they have some type of garbage collection almost every day? It's a funny thing. But convenient.

Okay, well, thanks. Just wanted to get a little whining out of the way so I can focus on getting ready for the weekend. Again.