Twice in two weeks I have forgotten to bring Brady’s scooter and helmet home after we got to school. Usually Kyle and I walk and Brady scoots, sailing down the hill, arriving long before us. We leave the scooter and helmet with the crossing guard or in the “cage” where all the kids keep their wheels, and I grab them on my way back home.
Friday was the second time I forgot. The scooter and helmet stayed in the cage all weekend, thank goodness, and I collected two scooters and two helmets today.
The first time, we were on our way home after school in the car when Brady gasped and shouted “MY SCOOTER!” He was shocked that I forgot it. Then disappointed. He said “You’re punished!” and then he thought about it.
“No more working,” he declared.
“Because you love to work, and you’re punished, so no more working today.”
That was my punishment. I stuck to it, chastised. If he saw me glance at my phone, he gave me the stink eye. “No working, remember!”
And so it is today, too.
Technically, this isn’t working, is it? It’s more like journaling, really. It helps my brain slow down. I’ve been reading a lot about parenting lately – not on purpose, it’s just what I’ve been picking up or clicking – and last night I made a conscious choice to be more conscious when I am present with my family. To be truly present. To not get distracted by what’s next, or what should be next, or what I wish wasn’t next. It’s a resolution that deserves repeating, often.
I took the boys to the dentist today. They got entries in The Cavity Free Club. So that’s something.
Okay, The Beatles. We are born, we grow up, we die, and there is always The Beatles. Their music is just there, like air, or water. For my parents, they were a Super Big Deal. For me, they just were. They were a 45 RPM record with an apple in the middle, a scratchy B-side called “Revolution.” They were songs played on the radio. They were cover songs and tribute bands and tragic, world-mourned deaths.
And then when Robin’s mother died of an apparent suicide, her friend Hayden sang “In My Life” at the memorial service. It was touching and terribly sad.
And then when Robin died of suicide, Hayden said “In My Life” at her memorial service.
But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
At that was it for me. I cannot listen to this song. Ever. Opening chords – change the station or click off the box or find a different channel. And yet, I did it here, to share it with you.
What’s your Beatles song?
*When I looked for just the right YouTube video to share with you, I found this. It’s the only version of this song that made me smile. Go watch it RIGHT NOW.
More about Robin: My Tortured Beacon
“Robin was dramatic in a way that I had never experienced in a friend, but since she was also generous, and brilliant, and loyal, and steadfast, and incredibly imaginative, I forgave her drama every time but one.”