I’m sitting on the couch, in wool socks and yoga pants, sipping coffee and munching my way through a piece of bread slathered with peanut butter and nutella. I just got done signing my broken-back son up for tap dance. When I called the doctor’s office to ask if he could take a tap class a couple weeks after getting out of his brace, the receptionist was like, Come again?

You know, a dance class. Tap. It’s mostly footwork so he won’t have to bend all that much, I said, and then the woman burst out laughing. Somehow I don’t think the spine center gets many calls from patients seeking permission to do tap.

I’m going to take the class, too. I decided that it’s ridiculous that my kids get to take all the fun classes. Who says I can’t indulge in a little happy feet just because I’m 40? Besides, the class is scheduled for the week after my next play ends—it will be the perfect antidote to the horrible, no-good, very bad post-play crash.

Actually, the way the class sign-up came about was this: I decided to sign up for the class and then asked my son if he’d like to join me. He said yes, and then my younger son begged to come, too, and then my younger daughter (who I just signed up for ballet) said that she’d maybe like to learn tap as well? Good grief! I already had to steal from our food envelope to pay the class fees for my older son and me! I’m putting the younger two off for now. Money doesn’t grow on trees and all…

Last Wednesday my older son and I spent five hours in the eye clinic at UVA. The goal: to figure out the extent of his eye damage and to work out a solution. We met with the most eccentric doctor I have ever met in my life: picture a squirrel jacked up on caffeine times ten. He spoke so quickly his mouth couldn’t keep up! At the preliminary check-in visit, he blew in and out of the room so fast that we didn’t know what hit us—and I only understood about twenty percent of what he said—but by the end of the day when we were scheduled to see him again, we were prepared. My son secretly recorded the whole exchange on his phone so we could share the wild, you-won’t-believe-it-unless-you-hear-it ride with the rest of family.

The upshot of the day is that when my son kissed the ground, he sustained nerve damage that weakened one eye muscle. When he looks to the left, he sees double. He will most likely need surgery to correct it. Two (simple, out-patient) surgeries, to be exact. First, the doctor will operate on one eye and then, a couple months later, on the other. Ta-da, problem solved! (Hopefully.)

That evening, I noticed, for the first time perhaps, that the eye damage is actually visible. My son was looking at me out of the corner of his eyes, and only the left eye fixed on me—the other one pointed north.

“Oh my word, your eyes are messed up!” I squawked.

He rolled his whacked-out eyes at me. “Seriously, Mom? You’re just now figuring this out?”

This same time, years previous: the quotidian (6.8.15), a photo book, the quotidian (6.9.14), mud cake, spinach dip, thorns, last Sunday morning, the quotidian (6.10.13), the smartest thing I did, the business of belonging, playing hard, Jeni’s chocolate ice cream, the quotidian (6.11.12), and mint tea concentrate.

This same time, years previous: a better grilled cheese sandwich, the quotidian (6.2.14), on pins and needles, delivery, the quotidian (6.3.13), meat market, chocobananos, white icing, of a sun-filled evening, the best chocolate ice cream ever, strawberry daiquiris, sour cream ice cream, on hold, and what it’s about.

I’m officially out of the post-play slump. Things that have helped:

*The sun! It stopped raining after nearly an entire month of soppy weather. Now it’s hot and muggy, my left foot is swollen, the lawn needs mowed every other day, and I’m taking the kids to the pool this afternoon. Hip-hip.

*Rehearsals for the next play have started! In my down moments, I once again have lines running through my head. And you know what? I love the constant bubbling of words in my brain. It’s comforting, in a jittery sort of way.

*The strawberries are coming! Last night was the first full-patch picking. With four of us working together, it wasn’t such a big deal. 

*Consistent morning runs with a non-fussy husband! In fact, so a-okay is he with running that he goes on runs on my days off, crazy guy.

*I’m back to writing. Note the absence of an exclamation point. I feel like a fish out of water after a couple months off. I look at the pages I’ve written and my head feels like it’s cracking in half. Pure torture. So I…

*Started a writing group! I checked in with a writer friend to see if she had interest and before I knew it, I had a group of eight, super-smart, super-intimidating writer people who are going to be squinting their eyes at my very not-polished work. This is bad because SCARY. But also good because MOTIVATION.

*New recipes! Actually, all of May was a good month for recipes. (I’m still dreaming of butter chicken, and I’m gearing up to make this salad again.) Among the winners was a new rhubarb muffin recipe that caused me to eat more than I should have. In other words, success!

I realize there’s already a rhubarb muffin recipe on the blog, but hey, that was five years ago. It’s time for a new take, right? Besides, one can never have too many muffins. (And this one is easier than the other recipe to make. Tastier, too, I think.)

Cool thing: if you don’t over mix the batter, the brown sugar stays in little clumps and then dissolves in the oven’s heat, leaving the muffins speckled with little pools of caramely sweetness.

Brown Sugar Rhubarb Muffins
Blog reader Susan alerted me to this recipe which comes from Mel’s Kitchen.

for the batter:
2½ cups flour
1¼ cups brown sugar, lightly packed
1 teaspoon each baking powder and baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
1½ cups rhubarb, chopped small
½ cup oil
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 cup sour milk (or buttermilk)
1 recipe crumbs (see below)

Stir together the flour, brown sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. It’s okay if there are little lumps of brown sugar. Add the rhubarb and toss to coat.

In a separate bowl, combine the wet ingredients. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry and combine, taking care not to over mix.

Divide the batter into greased (or paper-lined) muffin tins (don’t over-fill them like I did—makes them nearly impossible to dump out afterward), sprinkle with the crumbs, and bake at 350 degrees for about 15 minutes. Cool for about 10 minutes before removing from the tins. Serve warm, though leftovers are excellent, too.

for the crumbs:
¼ cup each flour and brown sugar
¼ teaspoon cinnamon
1 tablespoon oil

Put all ingredients in a bowl and mash together with a fork.

This same time, years previous: the quotidian (6.1.15), small pasta with spinach and bacon, and three reds fruit crumble.