This is Not a Letter

Dear RR,
You have turned two years old, and I owe you a letter.  This I know.  Now stop climbing up my leg long enough for me to write it, and I will!

But seriously.  What is it about kids that, when you’re holding them and you need to put them down for just a second (to do something like, oh, I don’t know, pee), all of the sudden THE GROUND IS ON FIRE.. AAAAAAA.

OK, that wasn’t serious at all.  But true, nonetheless.

Where were we?  Oh right.  I’m training to run a four miler** in September (and yes, those shoes totally make me run faster).  RR is two.  TWO!  We just got back from a week-long trip to Wyoming.  While we were away, the east coast combusted into a hot, angry ball of derecho mess, taking the power at our house down with it for nearly a week.  The good news was that we weren’t home for the power outage; the bad news was I paid the house-sitters more to take my dog to their house and clean out a week’s worth of rotten food from our (brand new) fridge.

For RR’s birthday, we bought her a pink plastic toddler shopping cart that is currently housing a baby doll (M’s from 1973, but it least it now has clothes), a blanket, a dirty bowl, and two plastic infant Advil syringes.  Let the hoarding begin.  We also re-gifted a Sit and Spin that my mother gave her for Christmas thinking, at two, she could figure it out.  If standing on the top of the stem = figuring it out, then she’s got it.  There is no sitting, nor is there spinning.

We added five more flights to RR’s resume, bringing her to 15 take-offs and landings, total, in her two years of living.  At least this one wasn’t to go to a funeral.  Bonus points for that.

Life is finally slowing down, which is what I always want it to be like, but then that leaves extra time in my brain and life to contemplate having another kid (answer = no), adopt a puppy (even more “no” than having another kid), fostering kittens (are you batshit crazy?!), or getting a new job or moving to another state (seriously, put the internet down! now!).  Which only tells me that I need more therapy.  But I’m not stressed out about it, which tells me that the anti-anxiety pills are still working!

So yes, RR, a letter is coming.  Soon, my dear little brilliant, sweet, chubby-cheeked peanut.

**The website for the race is here.  If you felt inclined to sponsor me and make a donation, click the “Make a Donation” link, click the sponsor a runner button and enter my last name – Guy.  It’s a really good cause, and I’m surrounded by cancer survivors, my wife included.  My mom was also a breast cancer survivor back in 1995.


Posted on July 13, 2012, in everyday. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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