Last Wednesday was already one of those days. I'd had this post all set to go, and then there were more explosions (West, TX) and after that we were all caught in the grip of watching the manhunt in Boston. I pulled my post after that. And I almost didn't repost it. But I have to remember. This blog is, as much as anything, the story of my family. I don't want to forget about that as I take pictures and test recipes. Sometimes our day to day is everything. It's all we have.

So Wednesday. Last Wednesday. Met a friend for coffe in the morning. Ran home to meet the pest control and do some work for a client in the afternoon. We already knew the evening was going to be a juggle. I had a meeting, and Neel had extra work to do to get ready for an event he has today. At the last minute we decided I'd pick Cal up from school, so before I left I threw our sausage and bean go-to dinner together for Neel to warm up as we were on our way home. The plan was I'd dash in the door with Cal after baseball practice, snag a bowl of supper and dash out, and Neel would either head back to work or try to work at home. All good, right?

It's often true that sitting in carpool is one of my favorite times of the day. It's weird. I get to school early to get Callum. To miss the worst of the traffic, I have to. It's either leave later, sit on the freeway and zoom in late or at the last minute to grab him, or I leave a bit earlier, actually drive my car (rather than sit in it on the freeway), get to school a bit early and sit there. Sitting there, I can catch up on twitter, flip through a catalog or magazine or read a book. You can see why I choose the latter. By 5:30 all the practices are letting out and the kids come streaming past me. Baseball is always last, and soon enough Callum's capped head appears in the passenger window. He's always peering into the passenger seat to see what kind of snack I've brought (Cliff bars, usually.)

Today I could tell right away that something was wrong. "I think I have an ear infection," he told me. It had been clogged all day and started hurting in baseball practice. Ear infections are not uncommon around here, and my boy knows his symptoms. Right then I made the decision. The pediatrician was closed by that time, so we'd head straight to urgent care before going home. Not worth messing around. I called Neel, who was already home and ready to light a fire under the soup, and as soon as Callum grabbed his backpack we were off. Mentally, I kissed my meeting good-bye. Mwah. Bye.

Three hours, one very nice doctor, three attempts to take his temperature because he kept accidentally drinking cold water, a whole host of meds, and one clearly innacurate measuring thingy (since it said he's taller than me) later, and we headed home. Ear infection. While we were there he got numbing drops, antibiotics, nasal spray and a strong suggestion to see an allergist. Once he got home he got dinner, a bath and a cozy bedtime. Still my baby. Even if he's officially taller than me (totally demanding a recount).

So apparently today is my birthday. It kind of snuck up on me. I mean, Tuesday birthdays? Not entirely worth celebrating, right? Plus it's an off year. When you have a school-aged child, you learn that time speeds up in the spring, and the days grow shorter (not longer), leaving little time for reflection and self-probing as we hurtle toward the end of the school year. My head is full of thoughts and ideas as I face the coming year, but in truth, I've had no real time to make any plans or even fully formulate what I'm thinking about.

And in truth? We're keeping things low key. I've asked for it that way. I have a meeting tonight, so no birthday dinner. We'll save that for the weekend. I asked Callum to get a haircut and he did, and I asked to get my car vacummed out and Neel and Cal took it yesterday after the haircut. It's the little things, right? What I *did* do is find the poem my mom mentioned in the comments last week. It's by Thomas Wolfe, and it's quite beautiful really. It's called Spring, and since it's still National Poetry Month, you could call this my little present to you.

Spring

Autumn was kind to them,

Winter was long to them—

But in April, late April,

All the gold sang.

Spring came that year like magic,

Like music, and like song.

One day its breath was in the air,

A haunting premonition of its spirit

Filled the hearts of men

With its transforming loveliness,

Working its sudden and icredible sorcery

Upon grey streets, grey pavements,

And on grey faceless tides of manswarm ciphers.

It came like music faint and far,

It came with triumph,

And a sound of singing in the air,

With lutings of sweet bird-cries

At the break of day

And the high, swift passing of a wing,

And one day it was there

Upon the city streets

With a strange, sudden cry of green,

Its sharp knife of wordless joy and pain.

Not the whole glory

Of the great plantation of the earth

Could have outdone the glory of the city streets

That Spring.

Neither the cry of great, green fields,

Nor the song of the hills,

Nor the glory of young birch trees

Bursting into life again along the banks of rivers,

Nor the oceans of bloom in the flowering orchards,

The peach trees, the apple trees,

The plum and cherry trees—

Not all of the singing and the gold of Spring,

With April bursting from the earth

In a million shouts of triumph,

And the visible stride,

The flowered feet, of Springtime

As it came on across the earth,

Could have surpassed the wordless and poignant glory

Of a single tree in a city street

That Spring.

urgent cared {still + life}

43 {still + life}