springtime

All good things

/ Meg / 1 Comment

Parenting in 2021 is a lot of “Are you on mute?!” during midday kindergarten Zoom meetings.

There’s a sentence I could have never made sense of a year ago.

As expected, we’re all being clobbered with “pandemic retrospective” pieces right now. I’m … not here for it. Maybe 10, 20, 50 years from now — when my grandchildren or great-grandchildren ask what it was like to live through COVID-19 (so much searching for toilet paper). But not every March, just when the first tentative buds appear on the pear tree in the yard. Is this going to be an annual thing? Two years since COVID hit. Five years since COVID hit.

I love spring, but it’s also been associated with worry and trauma since my son’s early birth six years ago. It doesn’t take much to put me back into that scary place — though our little family has certainly come a long way since.

My daughter will be four this week. Last year’s birthday party was our last “normal” family gathering for months . . . or longer. I remember our governor pulling together a press conference to address the growing threat of coronavirus, and hearing the earliest murmurs of stay-at-home orders as we prepared for Hadley’s birthday dinner. So much of what seemed unthinkable then has come to pass.

But lately I find my fingers trailing along more and more delicate threads of hope.

Do you feel them, too?

  • A year after I first googling “novel coronavirus,” I’ve been vaccinated against the illness (I work in communications on-site at a hospital). Many family members, including all three grandparents, have also received their first or second doses. Though close relatives did get sick in January, they had mild cases, and somehow we managed to escape getting infected as well. I am truly grateful.
  • The days are getting longer. Sunshine does all good things for the soul. I’ve been listening to vintage John Mayer — as I always seem to do with the changing seasons? — while remembering the hopeful college kid I once was compared to the hopeful minivan-driving mom I am now. Considering it was nothing but the “Hamilton” soundtrack on repeat since last summer, it feels good to return to comforting tunes.
  • My son will be starting in-person kindergarten next month! I didn’t dare hope that he’d have any physical instruction this year. Though Oliver has done as well as could be expected with virtual learning, it’s … well. You all know, I’m sure. While I’m nervous about the transition, particularly given he’ll only have a few months of in-person school before summer break arrives (more changes to routine). But he has amazed me with his adaptability, particularly to face masks, which I assumed would be tough even without sensory sensitivities. He’s a surprising little dude.
  • It’s almost cherry blossom time. Even if we still can’t experience the Tidal Basin as we typically would, I hope I’ll be able to get a glimpse of my favorite trees with my mom and dad.
  • Our house is calmer. I’m actually typing this after dinner, when the kids are still conscious (though ensconced in “Despicable Me,” it’s true). We still have our fights and rough days, for sure. But it’s been months since I ran outside barefoot in the cold to stand alone in the dark night and contemplate life because I just needed five seconds to myself for god’s sake. At nearly four and six, Hadley and Ollie are settling into themselves as little people, and we’re learning how to communicate more effectively. Myself included. Also? They can use the bathroom without much help. Man, a diaper-less world is great.
  • We have summertime plans. Nothing crazy, but two nearby trips are in the works. I’m so excited at the idea of getting away and seeing something new. Like all of us, my daytime views largely consist of my office at work and my toy-cluttered living room at home. Obviously plans will adapt should the COVID situation change, but I’m cautiously optimistic we’ll get to pack a suitcase for the first time in a year.
  • I’m writing again! After my newspaper column came to an end last year, I wasn’t sure when or if I’d be settling back here at ye old laptop. I was excited to begin a new bimonthly column for Southern Maryland Woman Magazine (my latest piece, “Making Rainbows Out of Rubbish,” is up now). “The Short Years” comes out every other month, as opposed to twice a week, so the pressure is far less intense than when I’d kept up “Right, Meg?” as a freelancer when I left the paper in 2017.
  • I’m narrating, too. My dad, Rick Snider, wrote and produced The Angel Among Us, a podcast series we cut just before COVID hit last spring. It’s a fictional multi-generational story that is, of course, free to download now. I pop up as Lilith, a demon with dark motives (surprising, no?). And it was really fun to act again, even for just an afternoon! And I’m proud of Dad for doing something outside the box. He has more in the works, too.

So that’s my good list. Capped off by the cup of coffee I’m currently sipping and a few episodes of “90 Day Fiance” stacked up on my DVR as bedtime approaches for two sleepy kids. I’ve got mermaid balloons ready to prep tomorrow night, in anticipation of my girl’s big day, and vanilla cupcakes soon heading into the oven.

Happy Monday, friends. ❤

Like sunshine itself

/ Meg / 19 Comments

I had a dream that spring arrived overnight, bringing with it clusters of flowers pushing up from their beds and warmth spreading across the crown of my head.

Then I woke up Monday morning to that, shed an icy little tear and shoved my growing girth into some maternity pants. The day must go on.

It’s gotten old, all this cold and dampness, the slush and mess, but I know we’re approaching the bend in the road. It’s almost over. And just a hint of spring can get me through some ugly days.

Fall has historically been my most favorite of all seasons, but something about spring — the melting snow; the freshness; the warm breezes hinting at something more — has really captured my winter-battered heart.

Spencer and I met in March on the first warm day of the season; later this month, we’ll celebrate five years together. We’d arranged our first date through OkCupid — the modern way, you know — and wanted to meet somewhere outside, taking in the first delightful peeks of the summer to come.

We wound up sharing a wrought-iron table at Panera. Though it wasn’t quite warm enough to sit comfortably outdoors, especially with the wind, we were determined. Persistent. And as we started talking, I stopped thinking about the goosebumps on my arms. I’ll never forget sipping a smoothie while this funny, cute guy pushed curls from his eyes in that ridiculous breeze.

Maybe that’s when spring transformed for me: that new sense of change, of excitement; this sudden belief that anything was possible. I fell in love in the spring. After a long stretch of winter, Spencer marched in like sunshine itself.

And we’re almost there again. Almost. Soon the days will grow longer, cherry blossoms will burst open, the salt and brine will slip away from our cars.

Life will bloom again. And in three months, we’ll welcome a new life ourselves.

Bring on the sunshine.


Pink trees


A springtime stroll

/ Meg / 13 Comments

Blue skies

Gray skies are gonna clear up . . .


Walking everywhere sounded so romantic.

As a suburban girl who grew up riding everywhere in the back of her parents’ minivan, I’ve never been one to entertain the idea of hoofing it anywhere. We have no real public transportation here in Southern Maryland; sidewalks are often a joke. I grew up on the side of a major highway just outside the Beltway in D.C., and walking? Yeah, no one walks. Not unless you have a death wish . . . or your car broke down.

When Spencer moved into his condo — our home, now — in town three years ago, we were so excited at the idea of being able to walk to things. I had visions of us stepping out for coffee on Saturday mornings, strolling the busy streets or walking to the town’s summer concerts when the weather gets warm. There are so many amenities within walking distance: restaurants, a theater, the post office, stores.

But do we walk there?

Rarely.

I’m going to go ahead and admit that I’m really the one at fault. Despite my get-healthy routines and life revamp in 2013, I’m . . . pretty lazy. And for most of the year, the weather in Maryland is humid or sticky or ugly or rainy or HOT, and I don’t play that. I was a woman made to wander the great indoors, and that’s generally how I like it.

But it’s spring. We’ve all been so cooped up for so long, the idea of spending another second in a dry, dark room is unbearable. It was so gorgeous last weekend, and the trees have finally begun to blossom. I guess I’m feeling nostalgic, too, because I know we won’t be here much longer. We won’t live in town past the spring, and I’m already feeling the twinges of that change.

Typical. Feeling sad before I need to, before I must.

So we walked to dinner last Wednesday, dodging cars and potholes in our journey to a local bar. We thought about eating outside, but the air was just a touch on the too-cool side for comfort. Groups of friends perched on wrought-iron tables on the patio, though, chatting and laughing and smoking the occasional cigarette. We watched the sunset through dusty windows, then stopped to capture the first buds of spring on our jaunt home.

We walked on Sunday, too — all the way to lunch with family and our local theater for a show. That was our farthest walk yet, and I thought about how good it felt to be footloose and fancy free in the sunshine. No worrying about parking lots or meters or tickets in town; no stress over getting “the right spot” at the busy matinee. Just the two of us in our light jackets, holding hands next to the train tracks.

Happy.

It figures I’d come around to the idea of taking my own two feet wherever we needed to be just in time for us to move on. Though our house will only be about a 10-minute drive away, it won’t be pedestrian-friendly.

But that’s okay. New times, new adventures.

And I know we’ll stroll again.


Lilac and spring daydreams

/ Meg / 10 Comments

Lilac


It’s spring!

I know, I know . . . another post about winter being over. But seriously: this one was one for the record books, and I’m just so thrilled it’s over. As temperatures reached (and have stayed) above the 60-degree mark since Monday, I’m prepared to declare the cold vanquished and prepare for some sunshine, sandals and ice cream.

(By the way, these photos are totally of my mother-in-law’s stunning lilac from last year . . . but let’s pretend, shall we? The buds of trees are only just starting to open now, and I have absolutely zero photogenic shots to share.)

In less than two weeks, Spence and I will be taking our first non-honeymoon trip as Mr. and Mrs. — up to spend time with his parents in Western New York! And to pop up to Niagara-on-the-Lake for a few days of walking, talking, eating, hanging and photographing. I am so excited to be spending time with them, and so happy to be on the move. As the cold held us all captive in our own homes, I’ve felt caged and listless and suffocated by winter.

Must go.

I also just bought a really cute, barely-used suitcase in an all-over London-themed print from a coworker for $30, so. Bargain and a new bag . . . win/win.

Nothing renews the spirit like travel. Even with the impending home purchase and floating $$$$ signs following us everywhere we go, we’re going to get away twice before summer — and I’m so ready to get out of dodge. Maryland, I love ya, but I need a change of scenery.

In a big way.


Lilac 3


Have you noticed the lack of Wordless Wednesday posts around here? It’s pitiful, I know. I feel guilty every time we reach midweek, desperately wishing I had something — anything! — to share. I like consistency, organization, routines. And WW has absolutely been a routine through the years. But if I’m being honest, I just haven’t been out doing anything worth photographing. I have nothing new. I haven’t been creative enough in our tiny apartment to branch out, and Spence and I have basically just been hibernating and signing paperwork.

Paperwork is kind of our thing.

On the home front, there’s not much to report as yet. Our closing date got pushed back, which is not a bad thing; it gives me more time to emotionally prepare, for one! And . . . well, I’ll need that. I think we’re both alternating between wanting to just move and get it over with and wanting to soak up the vibes in our first shared place together as long as we can. I love being in the center of town, so I’m hoping we’ll be able to go on a few evening walks before we go.

But with the first bursts of sunshine, the first warm breaths of spring, I feel so revitalized and ready for a new challenge. I’m still scared, still worried, but I know this is a good thing. A grown-up thing. A family thing.

And I’ll find plenty to photograph very soon.


Lilac 2