Mind won’t sleep

Interrupting this broadcast to announce my first born son, Adam Reed, turns ELEVEN tomorrow.  You read that correctly.  Only two more years until he becomes a teenager.  I can’t….

This is my ‘I get super duper excited and come on way too strongly and start chattering incessantly and shoot off rapid fire questions because the enthusiasm could literally make me burst’ face.

Ever since I went public about Treasure people want to know what’s being said.  Unfortunately…. not much.  She last stated that she was “relaxing and enjoying some me time.”  Seeing as how that’s one of my favorite pastimes, I totally understand.  Yet our conversation rhythm dwindled to the bare minimum.  Direct questions went unanswered and a picture not acknowledged.  That’s not typical of her.  I fear we may have reached a plateau after our initial discussions.  Did I scare her away?!  Or am I totally overreacting?  More likely than not she’s got a lot on her plate [overflowing plates are another concept with which I am intimately acquainted] and feels– the mutual buzzword for all of this– overwhelmed.  My deliberate attempt to keep expectations low and avoid attachment seems successful because I’m not upset or sad.  Just confused.  Not knowing why this is happening and if it has something to do with me sucks.  Treasure, can you just tell me what’s on your mind?

Biking excursion at Shelby Farms

Little man and I spent some quality time with our bikes this weekend.  We rode around the lake [a little over two miles] and got up to speed with each other’s lives.  His cheerful disposition, lack of whining, and general go with the flow reaction to changed plans thoroughly impressed me.  He’s working diligently to improve himself– attitude, fitness, grades, and just being the best possible Adam.  Proud mama alert!  Days like these counteract the ones where I’m where I’m wanting to guzzle a bottle of wine or take a Xanax [or three] cursing/crying and threatening to have Santa bypass our house entirely.  Dare I say he’s….maturing?

Every time I go to Shelby Farms I vow to visit more often.  It’s downright shameful how little I have taken advantage of all this incredible gem has to offer.  How long has the Greenline been here now?  Don’t Google the answer to that.  Not once have my tires made contact with the ground; disgracefully, I’ve never even set foot on it.  Spring shows itself more every day.  Take away cold weather and no excuses remain.  Utilizing the park to its fullest potential, especially with my children, is a priority for these next two seasons. 

 

Even if I spent the vast majority of my waking hours blogging it would barely scratch the surface in terms of what I want to say.  Then there are the times where words fail me because of the depravity of the situation.  Recent examples include the callous murder of Shannan Watts [along with her unborn child] with her daughters, Bella and Celeste and the massacre of Muslims in the Christchurch terrorist attack.  I start to outline of whatever it is I want to convey and I just weep.  It’s like my brain can’t even process the evil so it short-circuits instead.  I need to go deeper.  Laughter and crazy adventures have their place.  Yet I feel compelled to write articles [not necessarily on here but for publication elsewhere] that jar our consciousness.  Pieces with information you cannot push out of your mind.  Something that warrants a response and propels you into action.  Basically this is a note to self reminding me to allocate my daily writing time between blogging, actual pen & paper diary entry, and working on projects in other mediums…adjust the ratio according to my passion.

Scenes from the skate park

Life can be pretty damn heavy.  Last week the universe threw a curve ball at us.  A situation of this magnitude could have easily gone the panic route.  Worst case scenario thinking combined with debilitating anxiety usually signals a recipe for disaster for me.  Yet somehow I knew that things would ultimately work themselves out in the end and there was no place for a frantic meltdown.  How I achieved this Zen-like state is beyond me– but I’ll take it.  We let our bad news sink in and spent a few minutes reacting.  Then we noticed it was a beautiful day outside with tshirt temperatures.  So we cranked up the music, rolled the windows down, and went to the skate park.  Soon after there was a pit stop at Overton Park to stroll through the woods and take a few laps around the lake.  Allen and I have settled into a comfortable rhythm and I am eternally grateful that he is the Yin to my Yang and knows exactly how to handle the Many Moods Of Sloagan.

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My nephew and his longtime girlfriend dropped a bombshell of epic proportions:  she’s expecting.  He’s seventeen.  She’s younger than that.  Their little girl makes her debut around the 13th of June.  Like it or not, the baby is coming.  As much as I despise this phrase…it is what it is.  Do I agree with their decision?  No.  Less than ideal circumstances means the odds are stacked against the success of their young family.  Odds do not equal impossible.  They’ve got a tough road ahead of them but I commend Gavin for recognizing that impending fatherhood means it’s time to grow up and step up– no more juvenile delinquency and lots more gainful employment.  Kaitlyn, I know the two of you are committed to your relationship and parenting your baby.  You’ll be forced to grow up quickly and take the fast track to adulthood.

I want to conclude with a message for my beloved Toni.  Fear not, I will not use the ‘G word’ to describe your new role.  Stumbling upon a pamphlet about pregnancy facts while simultaneously noticing a bottle of prenatal vitamins on the nightstand blindsided you.  Do what you need to do to maintain your sanity.  Just know that we’re a fam [no matter how dysfunctional at times] and I will walk beside you this entire journey.

 

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane

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About Cocktails With Hemingway

I'm blunt and opinionated. Virtually everything I say or do is a contradiction but I'm not a hypocrite. I never hesitate to speak my mind and never fail to leave an impression wherever I go. You love me, you hate me, but you'll never forget me.
This entry was posted in Adam, Al Jizzy, Da Real Homiez, Memphis, Motherhood, Water, Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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