THINGS WERE proceeding smoothly, until suddenly they weren’t. Everything blew up.
Work exploded, as the calendar moved into my department’s busiest time of the year and we took on a major new project on top of our usual other duties.
Home exploded, as the girls added play rehearsal and spring sports to their already lengthy litany of activities, as I tacked t-ball coaching to my bulletin board of commitments, and as J. and I delved further into the planning stages of a big-time renovation initiative.
And I exploded, as months of wintertime consumption and hibernation had me feeling heavy and dull, my clothes uncomfortable and my body looking decidedly middle-aged.
Dadlibbing 