Here we are again in beautiful, warm, green, flower-filled, allergy-ridden, busy May with its end-of-school-year events, spring parties, graduations, awards ceremonies, concerts and summer plans afoot. Huck hears the gorgeous weekend forecast and complains that his parents will abandon him for the backyard (he prefers the non-buggy air conditioned climate). Sunny paces around anxiously waiting for more walks and dips in the neighborhood pond. Troy can’t stop planting, pruning, mowing and watering, and I can’t stop purchasing comfortable lounging type lawn furniture, which says a lot about our personalities.

As I’ve heard people say: “Can’t Complain.”

My sister Jeni and I were recently talking about how much our little brains always need something to worry about. Both of us had just experienced some work stress and general parental anxiety that fulfilled that need quite nicely, but then about a week ago we found ourselves without anything urgent or upsetting hanging over our heads (not counting school shootings and cancer). We began frantically brainstorming something, anything problematic in our personal lives that needed to be solved. And like an answered prayer, the white porch rocker I’d ordered online arrived with a strange hole in the left arm rest. Oh, this was unacceptable! I excitedly ran to the computer to demand a replacement part ASAP, almost happy for this setback. A fellow worrier who had just come off a very stressful semester shared with me her latest invented concern: finding the perfect travel shoes for a trip to Europe. Thank God for the seasons in our life when the true suffering disappears momentarily and is replaced by the fake kind.

Every now and then I give Sunny a humble rawhide bone, and when I do she looks at me sadly, like she doesn’t deserve such a treat. Once she knows I’m far away in another room, she decides the bone is safe to put in her mouth. Then she slinks past me to another room with suspicious eyes, as if I might steal it. After a few minutes she slinks back to the original room, and after a few more of these strange journeys she finally eats the whole thing up in under a minute.

Troy and I just celebrated our 26th wedding anniversary, Huck has nearly survived a very good 7th grade year, I just got a much longed for job promotion, and the rocking chair company promptly sent us not one but TWO perfect arms without holes. Sometimes I feel like Sunny Dog with her lil’ bone, not sure what to do with such a gift, maybe worried about how quickly it will be gone. Recently while driving to work I saw a mom and her toddler son playing together near a pond. Queen’s “Pressure” was playing in my car, and the whole scene felt like a sad movie and I had to look away. I used to be a mom like that with a boy like that and very little pressure during those sweet long days without a job. It’s the time of year, I know it is. Things are ending and people are saying goodbye and a certain little voice is beginning to change and a certain baby nephew turned 17 today and I really, really need something to worry about. I pulled into the parking lot in time to sing along to one of the very best endings: