This time of year is like the moment before you let out a sigh.
You’ve inhaled. Your lungs are filled. You are committed to exhaling in a whoosh!, even if you just remembered that you ate dill pickle chips with lunch.
It’s the feeling of your chest being so full it actually sinks lower inside your ribcage.
Baseball practice. Karate. Baseball tournament. Field Day. Teacher Appreciation Day. Spring Musical. End-of-the-year celebrations in ev.er.y.thing. The days are so full they sink like the sun.
So I am trying to enjoy that feeling of fullness, the moment before letting out that sigh, the knowing that your next breath will be a chance to refresh and renew.
Dill pickle breath and all.
Meet the Buttrams 
in 12 days, 1/3 of this year will have gone by. Where does the time go besides, sports, school activities, music lessons, family gatherings and sleep? I love dill pickles, especially the tiny crunchy ones!
It feels like the time goes everywhere but where I want it to go – like to writing, or ignoring the dirty dishes.
I hear you. In fact, my post today was on this very topic (sans pickles). I have been doing a lot of sighing lately, but not a lot of resting, if you know what I mean.
Mind meld! Let those sighs out, brother.
Tell me about it. The next 20 school days are packed.
It’s like they try to squeeze it all in at the last minute.
No, they DO. They DO squeeze it all in!
I almost hate the last month of school.
Preparing, as my oldest moves on to high school next year. So hard to imagine that we’re closing in on THAT milestone. I am entirely too young for that. It will be a pretty huge sigh, and then immediate deep breath.
A deep breath that you hold until graduation, right? I’m speculating.
My oldest will be a senior. And she will finish in December. My youngest a freshman.
And it’s almost Kentucky Derby Day. Where does the time go?
Now THERE’S a day to look forward to.
I know this feeling. I felt it today when I posted something “controversial,” and waited–holding my breath–to see if would have resonance, or drop like a lead balloon.
It’s that hitch behind your heart that holds until you exhale. It’s a curious feeling.
Ah, baseball.
It is taking OVER OUR LIVES.
The worst is when you miss an activity due to schedule overcrowding. The child whose activity was nixed is permanently traumatized (or at least they’d like you to believe this) so you comfort yourself with the said dill pickle chips and the downward spiral begins…
I will take dill pickle chips as compensation for my brain melting.