PennyDaisy

addled, that’s what i am.
or at least that’s how i feel right now. 
no coherent thoughts,
i can barely spell.
not enough sleep, probably.
too much junk food, definitely.
i wonder if my clothes will still fit me when i get home.
i miss my munchkin.

but i wouldn’t trade this time for anything.

---

::edit::
10:00pm

observations from evenings at the park…

two different nights,

two very different fathers.

one who’s tone of voice never changes

from simple conversations with his children

to instructing a crying young son on getting his knee unstuck.

another who alternates between normal instructions as he

hits baseballs out for his boys to practice fielding,

and scoldings and criticisms for not throwing far enough

to get the balls back to him.

(“If you can’t throw past your noses…”)

some of it’s the example they had.

some of it’s personality.

a lot of it’s ego.

i’ve been noticing the issue of ego

everywhere lately.

the man i observed on my first night at the park

had very little ego involved in parenthood.

he ignored the fact that there were people around,

remembered how young his son was,

and never minded that his son might be making him look foolish.

it’s amazing how parents sometimes feel like their kids are

making them look bad, and they handle it poorly at great cost to their

child’s best interest.

this father enough humility, at least at the playground,

to speak gently but matter-of-factly to his unwise offspring.

(unwise because first, he got his knee stuck, and second, it took him too long to listen to

the one person around him with the information he needed to free himself.)

it was the best handling of a crying-in-public child i have ever seen.

the second father seemed nice enough with his boys.

they were obviously having fun with him.

but occasionally ego reared it’s ugly head.

when they didn’t perform up to par,

he used words that would tear them down rather than

accomplish what he wanted–which was for them to do better.

whether it was because they were making his performance at bat

look poor, or because they were embarrassments as his sons because

they couldn’t do better.

either way, i was ashamed for him.

i was suddenly grateful for my own daddy,

who never scolded when we were trying to learn something new.

i never noticed it then, but humility is like that.

to quote,

“Humility is like underwear–essential, but indecent if it shows.”

television example: David Palmer in the last episodes of 24, season four.

now there was a man who could put his country before himself,

the good of a nation before his ego.

he was willing to look like the fool–or at least not like “the man”–

so that people would follow the designated leader.

he did what had to be done, he allowed others to do it to him,

regardless of what people might think of him.

he is my latest hero.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

i sat on the swings at the playground of an elementary

school near my grandma’s

(i think my uncle went to that school)

and watched a full moon rise.

perfect, dry evening.

marvelous breeze–rare for this part of Austin in the evening,

sunset over my right shoulder,

moon shining on my face.

i could swing forever.

(if only it didn’t hurt my seat so much after an hour.)

there’s a small tree recently planted near the tall

swing-set at the far end of the playground.

only about five-and-a-half feet tall.

and about four inches below the branches

is one small branch, like a twig

that has exploded with leaves.

when the wind blows, all the other branches

wave about, like hands, but it’s so natural

you hardly notice.

but that one little bottom branch,

so alone,

bounces.

i swear there are fairies jumping up and down on it.