Not that many books to report this month, unfortunately. Just four: A Truck Full of Money, Cruising Through Caregiving, Ashes, and The Nesting Place. Cruising Through Caregiving was wonderful. Everything else kinda sucked.
So let’s talk about something else.
One night last week, my husband was working late, which meant I was on my own with the kids. They are young (ages 6, 5, and 2), so we are still at the “5pm and Everything Goes to Shit” phase of life. Dealing with them on my own at dinnertime is basically a nightmare.
But this particular night I was determined to enjoy their company (and vice versa). So right when they began getting unruly, I started in with the stories–pee and poo stories first, obviously, because comedy. I told them how some people drink their own pee because of the extra nutrients. I told them how you are supposed to pee on someone if they get a jellyfish sting. [Insert so much laughter here.]
Now that I had their attention, I went in for the near-death (ish) experiences. I told them the story of when I was 8 and there was a 7.3 earthquake in California. I was in the middle of diving practice–on the actual diving board, in fact–and I thought I’d be safer in the water. So I jumped in. I was very wrong about the comforts of turbulent water. A few seconds later, the waves got so big that they threw me over the side of the pool onto the cement. I was unhappy because I skinned my knee, but I was also very happy that I didn’t drown.
I told my kids the story of when I was riding a dirt bike as a teenager. I was in the middle of the jump, at the highest point of the arc, and the bike’s engine quit. I thought to myself, “Oh shit, I’m going to crash.” But then, two seconds later, the engine miraculously restarted on its own. I felt a wave of relief as I landed, and I thought to myself, “Well that could have ended badly. Thank goodness it didn’t.”
Last, I told them the story of playing hide-and-seek with my older brother. We were teenagers then–which meant the game was too juvenile for us, for sure–but we really tried hard to scare the ever living ish out of each other. And that time he did a good job of it, because he jumped around the corner, and I didn’t see it coming at all. I screamed at the top of my lungs because I couldn’t help it. And then just because I was happy to feel scared, happy to be alive. (Note, when telling this story to my kids, I did scream at the top of my lungs–which, judging by their reaction, was pure comedic genius.)
In conclusion (and I think my point is that…), I read four books last month and that disappoints me. But lemonade, y’all! Life is still good. I’m not sick anymore, and I am ready to pick up the pace in December. I’m feeling motivated. I’m feeling bookish. It may be a chilly 25 degrees out, but the sun is shining and I just ate a piece of my favorite chocolate. It’s going to be a good month.