puh-park it real good

Hey Grace, you know you don't have to blog about every single time you load up the Odyssey and fly the nuthouse ... right?

I know. I know. But at the tail end of five week rotations that have left us feeling like residency is going to just swallow us whole ... clothing, nail polish, faux fur blankies, and ALL (or as Simon says, "we're not going to live through another call weekend") ... I think it will do a Grace some good to look back and read about some times that didn't leave her feeling like the world was out to git her. Because ... the world ... it revolves around her, as we all know.

But really. Yesterday was another one of those days. We were stupidly optimistic that Simon would get out (at the VERY latest) by 6 which isn't too late but considering that he had to wake up to trudge into a 24 hour shift this morn ... it wasn't the most ideal. But! Of course he hadn't even scrubbed for his last surgery at 5 and so another day went down like they usually do. I finally rant-texted a fellow resident's wife (sorry Tory!!!) a straight up novella about the injustice of it alllll and then decide to stop wallowing foronceinmylife. Once. Just once!!

I texted Simon as I loaded the kids in the car that we'd be at the park by the hospital and that hopefully he could meet us. Maybe I added an "xo" so it didn't sound as cold as it could've because my mood -- it was out to bite. Anyway ... you know where this is going ... my favorite place of all time ... the drive-thru. Of course. We flew through Chick-fil-A's gates on the way to the park and enjoyed the 73 degree temp (we drove by a bank en route ... although I am usually pretty big on checking the hourly weather predictions) in the company of virtually no one at the park. No one at the park is HEAVEN if you've ever had the pleasure of going to a park teeming with parents that follow 6 inches behind their capable toddlers and onto the play structures the entire time. If you want to get Simon going - talk to him about these parents. Let the children play! And fall! On the super soft ground that so many playgrounds are padded with these days!

But I yell-digress.

Us. Always us ...

 ^^^ you see this? Right after I snapped this masterpiece the world's biggest drama queen fell over and landed on her HEAD. She popped right up and said "I okay, I just fell a wittle bit." Let the children play.

 ^^^ had we not stopped them they would've pushed their charge right over the loooong drop ... not an ounce of remorse in sight.

^^^ lie and agree with me that my scar is definitely fading. It is, right? Let me just Shallow Hal it for one second.

 ^^^ I'll give you one guess who's the favorite swing pusher ... hint: not the one that doesn't put her back into it.

some highlights:

+ Simon eventually met us (duh) and the kids running across the park to greet him with their grins and shrieks didn't entirely make up for the day but ... maybe 88% of my faith in humanity was restored. 

+ on the way to the park Julia announced that she didn't love me anymore and that she only loved Daddy "because he is cuter" but she thinks that Bash might love me. Maybe.

+ Bash was pushing the empty stroller around and a couple that was walking by hand in hand watched in HORROR as he pushed it (and he quickly followed) right off a one foot drop off into some sand. He was fine but they - they might still be recovering.

+ when Julia is pushed on the swing she reports to be "feeling so much energy" with each push. I can assure you that this can be attributed to something she's seen on Netflix.

+ Bash beg-grunts to get on the swings and .0000001 seconds later he is scrambling to get the hell out of that torture device. He does this an average of 99 times per 30 minute playground visit.

+ Theo loved the swing ... moving or still. He's always been my favorite.

+ Bash fell twice before Simon was able to meet us and he had a bit of bleeding from his lip the second time. He stopped crying 4 seconds after the fall whereas his older sister would still be limping around and requesting that we resurrect a memorial at the site of the fall to recognize the fact that she lived to tell the tale to any that might lend a listening and sympathetic ear.


And that was last night in all of its not terrible glory. Just call me Salvage. Maybe Sal for short.