Wednesday, April 22, 2015

Ode to the exercise ball

You lurk in the nursery, patiently waiting until you're needed.

5pm hits. The witching hour is strong with this baby. You are ready, bouncy, turquoise? Green? Your color is not easily defined.

You go by many names. Exercise ball. Therapy ball. Birthing ball. I prefer "only thing that calms my dear baby."

You are often seen with your friend, the Moby wrap. Swaddle, bounce, shush. Repeat until D is calm.

Your bounce relaxes me too. 115 bounces per minute (yes... I counted). A bit of predictability in an often unpredictable day.

D and I would be covered in (more) tears without you. I love you, exercise ball.

Signed,
Laurel, who is less tired than she otherwise might be

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