I know it’s Tuesday, but I cannot shake my sense of today’s Monday-nity (get it? Mundanity/Monday-nity? I crack myself up, and unfortunately for my readers, I can’t help sharing). My husband’s 0645 brief this morning sent us plummeting back to reality after a delightful four-day weekend. Hearing the alarm go off at a truly uncivilized hour was rough, but at least we are heading back into the fray with memories of grilling delicious meat, imbibing tasty beverages, and embarking on miniature adventures to sustain us until the next bubble of breathing space.
I suppose one might make a case for our next escape from the needs of the Navy being very soon — the end of this week, in fact — but any “break” that involves travel to and from a place in quick succession with lots and lots of socializing squeezed in does not a relaxing time for us make. While it will not be a rejuvenating breather, precisely, the reason for our upcoming whirlwind trip is a good one: our first nephew was born last week, and we will be attending his bris. I can’t wait to meet the newest member of the family, hold him, make faces at him, and — very best of all — hand him back to his mom and dad when he gets fussy or needs a diaper change. Quoth a high school classmate of mine who has nieces and nephews of her own, “Returnable (to their parents) babies are AN EXCELLENT KIND of babies!”
I learned how to knit a few weeks ago, which is not as big a non sequitur from the previous subject as it might seem because my new craft allows me to do neat things like produce a handmade burp cloth for a baby present. I’m still a neophyte knitter, but I’ve got a pretty good handle on things rectangular, such as scarves, dishcloths, and yes, burp cloths. It tickles my sense of the absurd to spend my free time lovingly constructing a hand-knit object for the express purpose of catching spit-up. If a colorful cotton schmatta brings a little cheer to parents dealing with the myriad ways an infant can make a mess, I’ll call it time well spent.