Untethered Parenting

I juggle; three balls max of the same size and weight. Do I intend to add a fourth? Nope. This party trick I learned in 7th grade PE is fine as is.

So why am I trying to juggle 50 balls in my work life? Am I a masochist, an aspiring Guinness Records circus performer, or trying to break-in to being a collector of balls?

It’s none of the above. Or maybe it’s the masochist one. Whatever. I’ll get back to you on it.

For $10/a piece, Dave and I mosied our childless selves to a comedy show at a South Hill pub in a strip mall.

All of it felt right; dinner, seeing the M’s hit a grand slam (well, I didn’t see it, but Dave did), hearing how well Evelyn was doing at Grandma and Grandpas, and the show itself.

We’re now on the back porch sitting under streaming patio lights with a pitch-black sky all around us. Soft music, train and airplane sounds, a single goose honk, Archie’s toenails, and frog croaks fill the air.

And my typing of course.

I hope we have a night like this again soon. I’ve remembered what it is to enjoy the simpler moments and just be with the man that I love.

Maybe we’ll do breakfast in the morning. But. Only after sleeping in far longer than we have in 2.75 years. Happy Friday to you.


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