Cotton candy snowballs of lush springtime cherry blossom whimsy have begun their silent pink snowfall into the streets today. In my Cherry Hill hometown, Chapel Avenue is lined for miles with these stunning works of art and for a brief moment of glory they pop and sway and inspire. They peak and then their pink fades just a touch and then their pastel petals begin to swirl downward in the mild breezes of spring. I look forward to it each year. And. It. Is. Here.
And. Then. It. Goes.
This morning I awakened for the first time this spring to a yellow pollen-tinged car and received a phone call from school that my son’s eyes were swollen red from his annual baptism into another allergy season.
My minivan is making its rounds to baseball diamonds and soccer fields, both grass and turf, a dance studio and flag football fields all over the southern portion of the Garden State. We have three kids playing two sports each. A first for us. In three months, we have 48 games and 64 practices and 3 dance recitals. It is a mind-bending juggling act that has mothers and fathers with any number of children (and their subsequent grandparent/nanny/babysitters) orchestrating a back-breaking performance requiring strategy, skill, stamina, patience, luck, and a guaranteed nightly de-stressing nightcap for the parents. It’s dizzying and exhausting and thrilling all at once. How we get through certain days and weeks of this is all at once inspiring and idiotic. It’s the same conversation happening at every practice on every night as we all cross paths for the few scurrying minutes of gathering up water bottles and ballet shoes and stray soccer balls as we each remind each other about the upcoming PARCC testing and compare the many stops our own personal family buses are making, and how many made-ahead tin-foil-covered dinners are in the car. We are all laughing, though. And twitching. And asking how will we do it all. And sharing the same sentiment that it’s all completely insane. And I eat mostly standing up or in my car and…evidently, ’tis the season for this.
I remember a similar upbringing, winter and summer swim, dance classes, soccer, softball, tennis camps, field hockey, track, and afterschool clubs. Piano lessons, student government and on and on and on. Is it our generation that’s complicating things? Is any of this necessary? Helpful? Important? I ask myself these questions all the time.
Meanwhile, orange baseball dirt and grass stains are embedded in our white polyester baseball pants. Shin guards of all sizes and colors zip through our laundry machine at blinding speed. The floor of my minivan is sprinkled with memories of the goldfish of yesterdays and forgotten lollipop sticks and hidden water bottles that never made their way to the dishwasher. My feet this spring have been on sidelines wearing snow boots and flip flops.
And the blossoms are more beautiful than ever.
I catch distracted glances of them as I do my suburban shuffle, running my routes about town. And I celebrate them. My life these days is harried and tiresome. Repetitive and beautiful. Observing my people giving their all, passing, base-running, pirouetting, receiving in the end zone, blurry bodies in motion sporting their team colors and leotards and football gloves, exerting themselves, engaging in countless lessons on sportsmanship and inclusion and exclusion and foot skills and field awareness … making plays and missing chances, but trying nevertheless, is inspiring. Seeing the red-cheeked faces and sweaty heads of my kiddos as they run toward me after their games, win or lose, is glorious. Chucking snacks and lip gloss at our three year old baby girl is hilarious and memorable and sometimes annoying…mostly when she is demanding a wardrobe change…at the little league field. Or declaring her need to pee…and following a hyperbolic 12 mile march through the late April blustery winds and across 1,000 soccer fields to the portapotty, after setting her all up and successfully not touching anything in the process…turns out she actually doesn’t have to go. “Sorry, Mommy, no peepee coming.” Okay…. Only to declare at the next 45 minute-away-field-without-portapotties…that now. Now would be a good time. And? Mere moments after that. She also has to poop. And it is the one day I am without wipes. Like. That stuff. Just. Wow.
When I plunk onto my couch in my cozies and next to my husband at last…. at the end of days like that. Just. Cheers, man. We’re doing it. This crazy, proud, exhausting, every-day’s-the-same-but-new-all-at-once dance….we’re doing it. Together. My husband and me…but also…us. To all my mom friends who I get two second snippets of conversation with in the parking lot…the ones who steal hugs and deliver coffees. The parents I know, the parents I miss, the parents I’ve never met but our kids seem to practice on the same field but for different teams and I see them weekly, the ones I see rounding the corner, late, on two wheels with a wave out the open window….girl…I feel you. You got this. I got this. I think? This is this season. Next season will be different, and, with it, that-much older kids and potentially new interests and amended schedules and different teammates. And it’s all good. And freaking draining. But also, super good. Sending a fist bump and a warm hug and a coffee clink to you all. We can do hard things. And God sent us cherry blossoms to help.
Dearest Katie
God sent us cherry blossoms,and YOU. Your words are magical.I feel as if I am there by your side …barely keeping in step,as you awaken each day.with an agenda of constant activity,defined by your dear Father in law as
“ORGANIZED CHAOS”.The week I witnessed this up close and personal ,a long with my first Noreaster by the way..and
bathroom renovations which created minor inconveniences.I can only say..I loved every minute of it.Spending time with you ,Pat,the children…oh how I miss that ” organized chaos” All I can say is ” Thank you God for cherry blossoms…and. my sweet Katie”..❤ Your Fairy Godmother….
Aww aren’t you just a wonderful treat! Thank you so much for these kind words! I’m so glad you enjoyed reading it. The ridge continues to miss you!! Please come again, any day, any time!!