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Unable to Pull It Off

Funny thing happened today…my mom stopped by (she generally does on Sunday), and she looks around my kitchen. Now you know the ‘mom look’, as if she is saying a million things in her head–“dirty floor, dirty counter, just look at those piled up dishes.” So I save her the trouble and make the remark, “I try not to do much on Sundays”. In which she remarks, “how about the other days of the week?” I wonder sometimes where I get my mouth?! Um…I’m getting to it, mother! Sometime later. I like to think I can multitask, but the truth is it’s getting more difficult. Especially when I walk from the kitchen to the pantry and stare blankly at the shelves trying to remember why I walked in there.

This week I must really try my best at even ‘tasking’. Don’t you hate going into the week with your plate full? Like having to do a gazillion things and then trying to fit in remembering to call this place or that about really important things you forgot about last week. Eek.

This week also my baby turns 18. 18! 18! Must this continue? Haven’t I already given society my first born and watch him come and go on summer and fall breaks? Walk slowly by his empty room the other times and know he’s only good for 2 more summers in it before maturity sets in and asks that he get gainful employment and a real life. Why must I do this with my second son. What does he care? He’s moving up and out. Lonely for us, future for him.

My little Margie went to stay with an aunt while I go out of town for my birthday. I must say it’s a bit quiet around here without the little stalker/big mouth. I do fuss about her obnoxious behavior but when it comes right down to it, she’s one of the gang. I won’t miss, however, the way she throws food. Get this, she doesn’t eat a morsel all day while I’m gone (even though it’s in her bowl). Then when I come home, she eats like there’s no tomorrow. Does she want me to watch she doesn’t choke? Is she the type that won’t go into a restaurant and ask for a table for one? Who knows. I pick her up April 9th. I wonder if she’ll miss me, too? Cute, right? Yep, she’s all of three pounds of sass. I miss you, Marge. Come home soon.

For all of you guys, have a splendid week and I’ll keep you posted if anyone else turns of legal age and plans to move on! Cheers.

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The Aftermath

home-sweet-homeI finally made it home, and boy am I thankful!! Going away always make me appreciate the many thing I have when I return. Although the trip was glorious, I am always happy to return to my own home. My own little niche in the world. Where all my things are, my dishes are, and my bed IS! Oh, how I missed my bed. Is it just me, or can anyone else ever get a TRULY good night’s sleep in someone else’s bed? The sheets alone spook me. Are they really clean? And  like, who put their heads on the pillows for the last year and drooled through the pillowcase. Did they ever get washed? Is it just dried junk among the stuff and fluff? Yikes.

I don’t want to come across all whiney and unappreciative about getting to go away, but going away gets everything off track. One of our larger dogs had to be kenneled, so he was a bit weird about returning to his schedule of 3 times out a day. Our toy Yorkie always seems to have amnesia when she returns to us, looking as though she doesn’t remember the routine in the house. Sidenote: We have to find another place to put her next time. We’ve run out of family and friends to take the loud-mouth. All she does is bark when she’s away from home. Major problem.

I’m spending the day washing clothes and unpacking. Again, not to complain, but it takes two days to get back to normal after a vacation. Then I get to get up and do it all again. We have an overnight orientation with my college boy this week. I’m only half-unpacking—my toiletries are remaining in the bag for the next hotel. This week will fly by after I return. I’ll continue to unpack and catch up at work. In no time, the weekend will be upon me and so will the month of July. Can we just take a breather and bring the hands of the clock to a slow crawl? Just for the rest of summer break?  🙂

 

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Upside Down Day

upside-down-world

You never know what a day will bring. For me, this past Wednesday brought absolute chaos. I was awakened out of bed with a phone call from my boyfriend that he had accidentally hit our dog. I don’t even remember getting dressed. (I DON’T do well with a crisis, especially dealing with hit animals). In fact, I scream to the top of my lungs and close my eyes when a squirrel darts in front of my car. My children are scarred for life because of this, thinking we are about to crash each time it happens.

But you do what you have to, right? For me, that meant running down our driveway (it is really long) and helping put this bloody, hundred-pound dog in the back of the vehicle to go and get help. I actually stayed home—there were five kids left in the house that needed to be watched.

The point of my post is that you may have all the plans you want for the day, but it doesn’t mean that with one fell swoop, they won’t be cancelled. Bringing about an entirely different outcome. So, what I had scheduled was now trumped by trauma, worry, and anticipation of Walter’s recovery. Walter…who was just moments ago sniffing the deer prints that came the night before in our yard. Walter, who gets no attention other than being fed and watered.

Walter, who now is okay, minus the two gashes that are bandaged up on his legs and awaiting stitches. He is resting peacefully in our basement, underneath a blanket, and visited every other minute by one of our children. He’s is eating up the attention. After all, he’s thirteen years old and has never seen the inside of our home. But now, this is where he will live. Cuddled up on his bed, and seeing all that we do every day.

What a difference a day makes. Especially, for Walter.