Weekend Things

Last night, just before dinner, I took my nephew out to play in the sun. I sat him in the baby swing, sat myself on the grass in front of him, and sang him silly songs as he swung back and forth. My Pa came out and started kicking around a soccer ball. Little Man was enthralled as the ball went whizzing across the yard.

After observation comes practical application. I pulled him out of the swing and set him on the ground by the ball. He put his two tiny hands on the top of it, investigating its shape and texture. When he was ready, we held hands so he could walk. He didn't understand at first; he had never intentionally kicked something repeatedly before. I kicked the ball for him. He thought it was pretty much the funniest thing he had ever done in his entire life, which is quite possible seeing as he has less than a year to his name. In time, he was able to kick the ball himself. It didn't go far but that made it easier to kick again. He'd kick it a few times, I'd kick it to Pa, and Pa would gently kick it back. It didn't matter who kicked the ball, it resulted in the same rush of giggles and belly laughs and happy screams.

On our way in, I tickled Little Man's tummy and told him about what it takes to become something in this life. The key, I told him, was consistency. He could do anything if he were willing to be consistent. Starting early didn't hurt either. But most important is to enjoy the ride. I've never seen anyone play soccer with as much joyful abandon as Little Man did. Remember, I said. Remember to be consistent and happy and you've got this life thing down. He grabbed my tickling hand, shoved it away from his tummy, and gurgled at me. I think the talk did him some good.

Later, I went back out again. There was a perfect dandelion I protected from Little Man's errant kicks. It stood tall in the middle of the lawn, waiting for a perfect wish. I blew the dandelion wisps into the wind and wished with all my heart for my sister-in-law to live a long and happy life. Days before her 29 birthday she learned that she had breast cancer. She had surgery earlier this week and we're all praying as hard as we can that she will be cancer free for now and forever and able to raise her three small children. A perfect wish for a perfect dandelion. Ma will be flying to New York soon to help take care of her babies while she concentrates on getting better. It's hard to help from thousands of miles away.

This weekend I have no plans. Not true. This weekend I have no social plans. I've left it intentionally empty because, oh, do I have plans. Selfish plans every one.

My weekend things:

• flip my mattress
• clean my bathroom
• clean the carpet in the hallway outside of my bathroom
• serge the pile of rags in the sewing room
• pick up the sewing room
• make a couple of loose-fitting, wide-necked sweaters to wear while I'm working
• sew a pillow cover
• finish reading my book
• start and finish my other book
• start my other book
• eat popsicles

My weekend doesn't start until tomorrow after work and only lasts through bedtime on Saturday. Sunday is a different sort of day not made for weekend things. As you can see, my weekend is full to bursting. A perfect sort of weekend. I'll do what I can and save the rest for another time.

My week has been filled with people and plans, which is why I have a list of weekend things. Tonight I've been invited to a tea party. However, I've heard nothing solid. I see two options. 1) The tea party will occur followed by an hour of yoga (who doesn't do yoga after tea?) and it will be delightful. 2) The tea party will be postponed and I will begin my weekend things tonight and it will be delightful.

PS I'm considering investing some time and thought in a summer bucket list. Working a grown-up person job does not mean there is no such thing as summer. On the other hand, a summer bucket list seems pointless for me. I already know the four most important things: popsicles, sunshine, books, and traveling to and with family, aka adventures. A list is unnecessary. Finding something to put on a list feels forced and un-summer like. I think that means no summer bucket list for me. What would be on your perfect, summer bucket list?