And the world, it keeps on turning

Greetings from the infinitely calmer side of B.
Calmer, in that I am channeling my zen, and knowing that all things happen in their season. And no matter what is going on that I *want* to focus on, that world of four chilluns just keeps on turning, and I keep on needing to be a part of it.
On the grandmother front, my grandmother's caregiver did a very sweet thing last Thursday. I had called when Gig was incoherent and not at all lucid. This is a new thing, a side effect of the pain medication, and her worsening condition. I think it must be very difficult for the family and friends that stop in to visit - only to find she does not recognize them. So, we did not speak, and I was... well, you know how I was last week. Then, twenty minutes later - the caregiver called me back unexpectedly to say that Gig was awake and aware. Her voice is rusty and unused, and she is not herself. But it was something. This time, when I told her Phoenix was being a Tasmanian devil, she found that interesting. I mull over these topics that spark her interest, as though they hold some key. Most likely they are only reflections of motherhood, and her interest in her grandbabies, but I hold them tightly. Tiny sparks of connection.
I told her stories of the day, and that when it was time to hang up she needed to say goodbye. I told her I could not just hang up without a goodbye, that it was tearing me up. Like an obedient child, she croaked "bye" when prompted. I am figuring out how to handle these phone calls, slowly but surely.

And on we turned, spinning through a weekend and a few days, and on into today which seems to be The Day the Wild Rumpus Began. And here comes the head Wild Thing right now. If I told you he is chasing the kids with a (soft) baseball bat, would you be surprised? Phoenix is Two with a vengeance. He is all wild and sweet and monstrous and soft. All the ironies of a two year old boy. He is honesty and denial rolled into heartbreaking cuteness. Summer is being good to him. His playmates are home, to be tortured and entertained in equal measure. His mama is there to save them from his wild love. Wild bat-wielding love.

I have been meaning to catch you up on a few stories, and I am committing to that today. I owe you a few, because I have recently decided to include non-family adventure stories. I use the word adventure loosely, as many may not consider a trip to the library an "adventure." Oh, it can be. Oh, yes. And so can the YMCA. As you will see, if you care to stick around this week. First up will be Harry Librarian. Coming soon...