Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: Christian Values, Coping mechanisms, Kids, Oversharing, perspective, responsible adult, solving personal problems
I’ve probably written about this before, but it’s on my mind so here it goes again.
Mother’s Day…I like it. However, it brings up so many mixed feelings. You know how parenting magazines are all about taking care of little ones and keeping them safe? I want one that talks about taking care of teenagers and young adults, and what you’re supposed to do when a situation comes up. When they get that age, emotion has to be set aside and logic used. What you emotionally want to do sometimes is directly opposite of the logic. What you did for them as little kids, the protection, the coddling and organic foods and careful tending…that doesn’t work when they’re teens and young adults, and you never hear that. You never…well I never did, anyway…see a Parents of People With Minds Of Their Own magazine.
They get to this point where…you have to let go. you don’t want to. You want to keep them safe and fed and content,but doing that does not help them. It stifles them. Even when they don’t see it that way. You don’t want them to hate you so you do whatever you can so they won’t hate you but that isn’t what they NEED. I hate that. It hurts. I don’t like hurting. It’s also not easy. I hate that too. I like easy. But easy isn’t best, or good for you or them.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my older sons. I don’t like calling them children or kids, because they aren’t. They are young men. Letting go is tough.
And where’s the rulebook? Where’s the guide that says “if this, then that?” How do you let your adult children be adults?
I think you just…let them be adults. Even when they don’t really want to. Give them the space to make decisions, good or bad. Put them out there,shove them out of the nest like a bird, and hope they fly? Boy that’s a tough one, but how would they ever figure out how to fly if you don’t?
Anyway…I am both amused and resentful that there’s no parenting support out there (that I can find…do you know of one) beyond the organic juice boxes and Dr. Seuss. It’s kind of like society says if you can keep them alive until they’re 10, you’re on your own. And frankly, I think parents of teens and young adults need MORE help than the ones of little kids. God know I did, and I didn’t have it beyond “Oh…you have teens? Make them memorize scripture and rebuke them when they’re bad.” Say what?
The best I can do is the best I have done, even though it hasn’t been that great. I love them,I feed them, and each morning is a new day where grudges and resentment are forgotten…sort of. There’s stress…oh my word there’s stress. I haven’t seen a magazine that tells you how to deal with that sort of stress that comes from your kid acting like he hates you one minute then needing you the next and you’re wondering when he’s going to hate you again. I have my own coping mechanisms that come in a big bottle of chilled white wine, a bit of talk therapy, and occasionally pharmaceuticals. Probably not the best way, but it’s how I roll. Do you know how hard it is to pray for someone when you’re so tense your ears are ringing? The only coherent prayer I can form is “God help me…”
I need a group. I need a group of women who’s children have broken their hearts and scared them and made them wonder what they did when the child was 4 that resulted in this. I want them to still be there, still wondering. And I want a couple or three women who’ve been there and survived,who can say it may or may not be ok, but it is possible to survive and not feel this tension and fear, to simply love them, those sons and daughters who have taken a path that I don’t understand.
I googled it, to see what’s said out there about mothers of adult children, and what I got was stuff about adults abusing their mothers, and about how to deal with a terrible mother when you’re an adult. Nothing about how to love your adult children, how to guide them when they don’t want your guidance, or how to show them you love them when they think you don’t.
I will always love them. Always. But I don’t always understand.
Lord,give me the wisdom to love my children the way You want me to, and the courage to do it.
I don’t talk about my spiritual life much. There’s a lot of things I don’t talk about much that maybe I should say more about. Anyway, there it is. The fact is, I love God, and while I am not as good about showing it as I could be, every now and the something comes along that makes me want to take out a billboard and announce it to the world because it says it SO MUCH BETTER than I ever could. This bit I’m putting up here is one of those things.
The back story: A while back I joined the newly established choir at our church. A music director had been hired and I loved singing so why not? Our new director had definite ideas about the type of music to be sung, that happened to be almost exactly the sort of stuff I LIKED to sing. It is not the “Jesus Is My Boyfriend” type of music, nor is it the “Hoppalong Jesus” 4 part harmony Gospel Where’s My Microphone stuff. It’s hymns. Old hymns, new hymns, rearranged hymns, and enough Purcell and Bach thrown in to please the classical music lovers in the congregation. Great stuff. Anyway, she has a fondness for this couple named Keith and Kristyn Getty- a husband and wife duo from Ireland (now in Nashville) who write this BEE-AH-YOOO-TI-FUL music with all the proper chord resolutions and Reformed Theology words and is simply wonderful. I put them on Pandora so I get to hear ALL THE STUFF. Also I’m a sucker for anything with Uillean pipes in it.
They wrote a song recently, upon the birth of their first child, called A Mother’s Prayer, and asked a bunch of us mothers with blogs to make a post about it. I listened to the song and even though it was written for their wee little daughter (who’s in the video just lookathoseweepigtailsIwantotsquishher!”) the words are just as true to me, with my grown sons. I pray the same things for them, every day. She sings it so much better than I could ever say it.
Also, these are Kristyn’s words about this song that they wrote, to their daughter.
Reflections on A Mother’s Prayer
In the spring of 2008 I first prayed for a baby, and in the spring of 2011 God answered that prayer with the birth of our beautiful daughter. My joy was full but so were the fears I wrestled. In some ways I felt like a baby Christian again, caught in a whirlwind of emotions, learning and applying what I have known and trusted into a completely new life – I know I’m definitely not the first to feel that!
Friends of ours had given us a card when their first son was born; it was full of prayer requests for his little life, a prayer for every day of the month. My prayers were not quite as coherent as those, especially at first, but the urgency of the moment drove me to my knees. “Help her, help me” baby prayers at 3am; prayers as I heard the baby monitor light up in the morning; prayers when I thought of her safety, her soul, her future; prayers with my husband; prayers while Eliza listened in.
When people found out that I was pregnant one of the most frequent comments I received was how my creativity would discover a whole new vista of inspiration as I became a mother. So, when Eliza came I was anticipating a fresh flow of profound poetic thought, but instead I was swept up in the constant flow of changes and feedings and “Old MacDonald had a farm!” I was expecting full sentences, but I was blubbering looking at my beautiful girl! I actually wondered if I’d ever be able to write again. I just about tucked some thoughts away to ponder later when my brain would start to fit itself back together again (still nowhere near a completed process!). As I continued to learn the wonderful balancing act and privilege of mothering, homemaking, writing, traveling and singing, Keith and I began to write a song for Eliza choosing this theme of praying for her, and the end result was “A Mother’s Prayer.”
My parents have faithfully prayed for me my whole life, and I remember when I was younger my mum met with other mums to pray for all their children – a “Moms in Touch” group in Belfast. Even just the knowledge of that helped me, and I want Eliza to know we are praying for her and trying to guide her in this context that reaches to the call and purpose of her whole life and an understanding of the Lord’s grace and faithfulness. We’re now in the toddler stage and some of the prayer needs are shifting. We wanted the song to reflect the different seasons – ones we had discovered and then those still to come. We also wrote it to remind us of our promise to pray for her through all the years we’re given. We hope this song for her – and even more our praying for her – might catch her ear and help guide her heart as she grows up
I don’t often get emotional about stuff like this, but it rings very true to me, and has honestly touched me. I enjoy their music. It frequently requires me to stop what I’m doing and listen and think. This particular song touched a chord that needed touching. I hope you like it as much as I do.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: Coping mechanisms, Kids, perspective, responsible adult, solving personal problems
I knew it wouldn’t last! Grumpy moods rarely do around here. With a dog like this:
and a cat like that:
who can stay crabby for long? Not me.
AND! it’s Friday, even though yesterday was kind of like Friday because I didn’t have to get dressed and haul #4 around, only not because today I did,but it wasn’t like Sunday either because there was no getting dressed nice and singing and stuff like is normally done on Sunday, also it’s not Monday, because there isn’t an entire week of getting dressed by 7:30 staring at me.
Did that make sense?
Now then…there’s stuff going on around here. Personal things I can’t really discuss, but it is interesting to watch your kids grow up. They aren’t kids anymore. One of them is, because he’s 13, but the other ones aren’t and it is very difficult to change patterns of thinking about them. I am trying, really hard I am. They are adults now, with adult decisions to make and I can NOT rescue them. I don’t want to and they don’t need it. Actually I kind of DO want to but that would not be what’s best for them, and I want what’s best for them more than I want to rescue them.
Ye With Adult Offspring: Do you ever get over wanting to rescue your kids? Does it feel fantastic when you see them get out of their own situations without your help? I need to know it will feel fantastic for them, because they did it, and for me, because I will see them as an adult when they do. I love my kids,and that means letting them leave the nest and make their own ways, however treacherous those ways may look to me. Right?
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: cats, Coping mechanisms, Home and hearth, Kids, Oversharing, perspective, solving personal problems
I’m up at 4 am again. Thank goodness I couldn’t figure out how to reprogram the timer back in the Fall when the time changed, because it thinks it’s 5 am and comes on, and I can lay in bed until the clock says 4:20, and know the coffee is ready. It isn’t actually 4:20, but 4:05, because when the power goes out the clock resets itself 5 minutes ahead and we’ve had a few electrical blinks recently. Anyway, it makes sense to me and I get where I need to be on time so hush.
Poor Phleud (pronounced ‘Floyd’ or sometimes ‘Flude’), our occasional Siamese cat. He doesn’t hang around enough to get used to Rusty (the wirehaired dachshund, our most recent animal acquisition, he’s a year old), and Rusty isn’t used to him either, so whenever Phleud comes through the pet door, Rusty has a conniption fit and Phleud defenestrates immediately. Ok maybe not EXACTLY defenetrates (I just wanted to use that word so you could be impressed with my vocabulary prowess at 4:30 am), but he certainly leaves in a hurry. Poor cat. No, not really, it’s not like he’s starving. In fact, I have rarely see a more healthy and solidly built cat. He’s cheating on us with neighbors. I know this. That’s ok. I am glad he’s well cared for. However, if he can get in during the night, when Rusty is asleep, it’s fine. He comes in, perches on the cat tower in the office, and hangs around for a couple of days.
I actually like this 4 am getting up nonsense. Sort of. Often it starts with the anxiety not-quite panic fit. Heart racing, sweaty palms, all that. It’s ok. I know why and what to do. For some reason, turning on the light and spending a few minutes reading a bit in the Bible and some Charles Spurgeon and I am reminded that, in the grand scheme of things, all will be well. Why Spurgeon? Because he says things (essentially) like “Yes, you’ve done some really stupid stuff, but in the grand scheme of things, all will be well.” then backs it up.
You know one of my biggest pet peeves? It’s this Christian literature/ self help/whatever stuff that seems to imply that when bad things happen, it’s a result of outside forces throwing bricks at us (or something). Like, we’re good people who have had bad things happen to us, and we aren’t really at fault for it, but we might not have responded to the bad things the best way. Ever read The Shack? Someone gave me a copy of it, with the implication that if I didn’t read it and think it was the Best Thing Ever and O So Encouraging I probably wasn’t actually a Christian and was just pretending and needed to Get Right With God. I hated that book. It followed the typical Christian Lit model: Man has a good life and says he loves Jesus. Bad thing happens to the man, and he blames God and gets mad, Man falls into ruin and re-finds God, relationship restored. What I so rarely see is a model like this: Man does a bunch of stupid things, has regret, finds redemption. Not ‘man has bad things happen that are outside of his control’, but ‘Man digs his own hole and jumps into if of his own accord (Terry would say ‘of his own free will’ but I am a Calvinist so I say ‘because it’s part of God’s plan for that man’s life’. I honestly am not sure which one it is, but fortunately I don’t have to know.) Yes, there are books out there where the protagonist does some bad things (Ted Dekkar books), but boil it all down, and the protagonist has some flaws brought on by something he couldn’t control, like a bad childhood, or being kidnapped and brainwashed. I want a protagonist who did bad things BECAUSE HE WANTED TO. One that had a good childhood and was raised properly, with love and all that, who wasn’t forced into mental slavery or did bad things because he was scared. I want one who said “Oh hey…I think I’ll be bad for a while and see what that feels like!” That would be a character I could finally identify with. Or to rephrase in order to please my English teacher friends: That would be a character with whom I could finally identify. (See, I can do it, it just doesn’t come naturally.)I guess I’m more Free Will than I am willing to admit, but I find a lot of comfort in the Calvinism too, because it says that all this stuff I can’t handle doesn’t have to be completely handled on my own, since God has a plan for it. Refer to Romans 8:28 (and pretty much the rest of Romans 8 as well,context is important)
“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”
This means the world to me…especially when you stick it together with Proverbs 22:6
“Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it.”
Because it gives me hope for my children, and comfort that, no matter what, it will all ultimately be ok. Maybe not today (my kids aren’t old yet), but eventually. I need that.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: Home and hearth, Kids, Spouse, Who does that
I guess it’s all settling in. The weekend has been emotional- highs and lows, good stuff and bad. Some stuff was both good *and* bad, which is hard to chew on and swallow but there it is anyway. I’m not able to go into it more than that, as it involves people who are not me, and is very personal. However it was cathartic in a sad sort of way.
I am mentally processing the events of last Thursday. Being far enough removed from it that I was not directly affected, I can do that. For that I am profoundly thankful.
I was able to spend a bit of time with my eldest, He Who Moved Out And Who’s Former Bedroom Was Painted Pink. He is doing remarkably well. And why not? Because I am…well… For all my Scottish Presbyterian Heritage, in my heart of hearts I am an over controlling Italian-Jewish Mother. Sorry son, but that’s reality. I was pretty sure he was wasting away into nothing, surviving (barely) on cheap sodas and stale popcorn, living in a cardboard box next to the dumpster outside the movie theater where he works. Imagine my delighted surprise to see him healthy and pink, in need of nothing more than a ride (due to a flat tire) and a little time with his mother. He even let me see his apartment, which was comfortably furnished, tidy, and smelled nice. He is working many hours, and…well, I am really happy to see for myself that he is doing so well.
(I use “well” too much. Too bad.)
We finally got the Christmas tree up and sort of decorated. David helped get it into the stand, which took some finagling and application of wooden blocks due to the screws in the stand being rusted in place, and me being too cheap to go get another one because at least this one doesn’t leak. I will throw it away, and note in next year’s calendar (late November) that it was discarded,so I don’t get pissed off at not being able to find it. Once it was in place, the lights were put on, 100 small white ones and 250 smaller colored ones. It looks so pretty I left it that way, then when everyone came in later in the day, they agreed that it looked very pretty, so we didn’t put any ornaments on it. None. Just lights. We are all still pleased with it. Yesterday Terry said it was very modern and minimalist, which is a style I like anyway, so I felt complimented by that.
And so it is. All the gifts are bought and wrapped. All that remains are stocking stuffer stuff, which will get done this week one day when I am bored. Big Lots..that’s the best place for that sort of thing.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: Being Southern, Coping mechanisms, Home and hearth, Kids, Spouse
We’re going to have nearly nobody here for Thanksgiving Day. Will (24) has to work from 11-8 that day. Apparently there are enough women who’d rather go see Twilight than actually spend time with their families that he is required to be there, so as to serve them popcorn extra butter and a 1/2 gallon of diet coke, also maybe their husbands who’ll duck into the Cafe Theater to see Skyfall and have a beer while their wives are slobbering over Taylor Lautner’s chest and choosing to think his pedophilia is romantic.
And then David has to make a drive to a testing lab for Terry, which is 4 hours away but happily in the same town my parents live in, so he’s going to stay there.
Which leaves…Terry and me, and #4. 3 of us.
For Thanksgiving Dinner.
That’s never happened before. I asked Terry to poll the people at work and see if anyone was alone and needed a surrogate family with which to eat. I am, per usual, cooking for an army, because apparently I know no other way to do it.
Then he had the (how come I never think like this?!) bright idea of waiting until Friday or maybe Saturday to have the Big Meal. Everyone will likely be available. Possibly even CJ might be able to come for the weekend.
Anyway, here’s what I intend to fix. Maybe tomorrow, maybe Friday or Saturday.
Smoked boston butt (pork shoulder roast) with carolina style sauce (Sticky Fingers brand)
Smoked chicken (at the same time as the butt. You put the pork on the top rack and the chicken underneath it, so the juices from the fatty pork drip onto the chicken and baste it).
Macaroni and cheese (because here in the Deep South, it counts as a vegetable)
Baked beans (per Terry’s request) (also a vegetable. Beans=vegetable. Amirite? yes I am.)
Cole slaw (per David’s request as he is attempting Low Carb Eating and actually doing quite well with it) (also, it goes amazingly well with the smoked pork, on a bun as a sandwich ok now I’m drooling)
Terry is making noises about a cobbler of some sort- peach or berries or something- with ice cream. I have no preference as long as he makes it.
I guess this is what happens when one’s family grows up and goes their own ways. I am actually quite OK with all that, it just takes a little bit of getting used to the idea. Terry and I have always made plans for what we’ll do when it’s just the 2 of us for a holiday. As parents of exclusively male-types, we are aware that it is very possible, even probably, that our children (once married) will spend them with The Wife’s family, because that’s how it’s done. So, we have a list of Things To Do for holidays.
Rent a cabin in the mountains
Go Someplace Interesting (The Grand Canyon, Northern California, etc)
stuff like that.
This holiday, tho, Terry is working. I haven’t said much about his work, because there’s so much going on that I can’t talk about. All I will say is that he is still employed, and for that I am grateful.
Filed under: *eep!, family, home and hearth, kids, Moving drama, outlaws | Tags: Coping mechanisms, Kids, responsible adult
Our eldest son is moving out (again) today. I am….not sad. Mainly because once he’s out, the room he was in will get a serious scrub down, a fresh coat of wax on the floor and paint on the walls. A pale rosy pink,very feminine and lovely, then I am going to move all the stuff in my sewing room across the hall into that room, which is twice the size. The smaller room will also get a coat of paint (color as yet undecided), a bed, an antique dresser, and a comfortable chair (as yet unpurchased, but I’m going to look for something vintage),and turn into the guest room. It will be a little bitty guest room, but right next to the bathroom.
Why am I doing this?? Don’t I love my child enough to maintain a room for him in case he needs to move back? Like some sort of shrine? Of course I love him. Of course he can (VERY conditionally!) move back if he needs to. And, he will get the itty bitty room if he does.
My sewing business is becoming enough that I
need want a bigger room. I have rolls of cloth and many, many lovely shelves that are full of patterns and books on color theory and pieces of esoteric equipment and…I need want more room. Terry has put in a request for a second chair up there, so he can sometimes sit with me when I am working, just like I sometimes sit out in the shop when he is working. I would like that.
So, how do I feel about Eldest Son moving out (again)? I am…well I am happy about it, and I am anxious about it. I am not sure how he’s paying for it all. However, he is doing it, and since he is nearly 25, it is time to let him be a grown man and deal with it all himself. I know he is fully capable of it. We let him move back in when he started school, so he wouldn’t have to deal with working full time while getting back into the swing of education. That was 2 semesters ago, and he says he is ready to move back out. I say “ok then, best wishes and come by for a meal once in a while”. There is no acrimony, which is really, really nice. Just a bit of anxiety on my part, but I will get over that.
Probably the biggest source of irritation with the whole affair is…well…Mother In Law related. For some reason, whenever one of our kids moves out, it’s not that they are adults and moving on with their lives, it’s that we “threw them out with the trash” and “don’t love them properly” and “will regret doing that.” Because, y’know…young men in their 20′s apparently still need their mommies. Because yes, we totally dumped all their shi…er…stuff in the front yard for them to contend with. We didn’t find them boxes and let them use Terry’s truck and stock their kitchens with staple food and invite them for a weekly meal and make sure they have enough blankets and towels. No. We threw them out on their naked butts in the cold, cold Winter to starve and fend for themselves because we are lousy parents who Don’t Do It Right.
Scratch that. I am not complaining.
How’s that for passive aggression?
The simple fact-o-th’-matter is that we love our son very, very much, and we are both anxious and excited for his future.
Filed under: bits and pieces | Tags: Coping mechanisms, Home and hearth, Kids, solving personal problems
I saw The Good Dr H on Monday. He, being a medication minimalist, said he wants to give the new stuff another 6 weeks or so before deciding if the dose needs to be increased. I am ok with that. Brain stuff ain’t aspirin, it takes a while to show signs of working and it has only been 2 weeks. I am feeling a bit better.
CJ (21) is moving to Alabama next weekend. My parents have a largish bit out in the country(about 35 acres) with a trailer hookup spot. He and Dad are making plans to build a small house there. He will live with them and stink up their guest room for a few months, until that house is built, and also look for work. There is a lot of industry in the area, and Dad knows basically everyone, so we are not concerned that he won’t find a job. With his skills, anything from changing oil at a Pro-Lube to maintenance on heavy equipment and factory stuff is open to him. He is also looking really hard at taking courses in HVAC, plumbing, and electrical stuff at the local Vo-Tech school there. I will miss him but knowing where he is and who he’s with helps with that a lot. A while back he made noises about going to Alaska and looking for work on a pipeline. That did not please me at all.
Terry took #4 to school this morning. It wouldn’t hurt my feelings a bit if he did this every Friday. He will get a bagful of chicken biscuits from Uncle Shug’s, which means I don’t have to cook breakfast (not that I mind cooking it, but a break is nice) and he’ll get catfish from The Red Barn for lunch, and #4 gets pizza for lunch, so no fixing those either! In fact, it means I can sit here in my bathrobe pretty much as long as I want!
Chili for supper. It isn’t officially cold enough for chili, but I am not a patient woman and will at least pretend that it is. Chili on Fritos, people. That’s how it’s done. I’ll put the recipe up on Rootie’s Kitchen maybe tomorrow.
and now I am HONGRY (which is Southern for nearly ravenous). I made the mistake of taking some time this morning to peruse Foodgawker looking for soup recipes. Also, supper last night was rare sirloin, sliced thin and served on top of chunky mashed potatoes with a creamy gorgonzola sauce and a side of sauteed spinach and now I want more. At a restaurant, not home or I’d totally have that up on RK as well. I am going to find a good recipe for the sauce and make it for my family because dangum it was delicious.
The top on my convertible is misbehaving…talk about First World Problems. Terry said it sounded funny a while back so he thinks it might be low on hydraulic fluid and will see if he can’t fix it himself. Naturally, the warranty expired 4000 miles ago. We both think cars are rigged with AutoDestruct 5000 miles after the warranty expiration thing. Not being able to put the top down right now isn’t as tragic as, say, being a single mother with 3 young kids and no car…or a case of Ebola virus…in fact it doesn’t really even qualify as mildly irritating…but it is a (ok not sad…let’s call it…about as bad as wanting to make clam chowder and there’s no cream)…well ok I don’t know a mild enough perjorative. But I do wish I could put the top down on these cool early Fall days.
At least I can open the windows.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: Coping mechanisms, Home and hearth, Kids, Who does that
I need to clean bathrooms. The powder room and master bath aren’t so bad, but the boys bathroom. Ugh. 1970′s truckstops come to mind. The sort of place where you really want to stand on the toilet seat and in no way let any part of it touch any part of your body. Hazmat comes to mind. And the tub…oh man. A few years ago I refinished it from it’s original penicillin green to a lovely and neutral cream. Only apparently I didn’t do it right because the cream is peeling up so now it looks even worse than it did originally. Cream, antibiotic green, and…industrial grease. Which is nearly indistiguishable from mildew. And won’t come up with bleach. What it needs is engine degreaser but that is wicked on the septic tank. So, when we have guests, we put them in a hotel room. In theory the boys are supposed to keep it clean, but their standards are not my standards and as long as there isn’t a big turd floating in the commode they consider it clean.
Also, they are incapable of putting things like empty shampoo bottles and used razors in the trash can, which is large and has a lid. Thus there are several empty bottles on the floor next to the trash can, and probably 15 razors (even there are only 3 people who shave that use the room) on the sink. As well as used cotton balls and tiny chips of soap. I am glad I had sense enough to put a darkish slate looking floor in there, because it shows nothing unusual or untoward.
There is a nice heavy towel bar, consistently ignored for the convenience of throwing the towels on the floor, which then pile up until the whole floor is covered and someone complains at there being no clean ones. I have explained for years that one is usually relatively clean when one steps out of the shower, and towels can actually be reused, if hung up to dry, but it fell on deaf ears. I have no sympathy. If they want a clean towel they can wash the damn things themselves.
Lots of underwear on the floor too. And dirty PE uniforms…that’s #4′s problem. He knows how to work a laundry basket and washing machine as well as I do. Every now and then I’ll get a burst of Motherly Instinct and actually gather up the soured towels and underpants and wash them all…but not very often, and as long as I close the door and don’t SEE the bathroom, I don’t really care what kind of condition it’s in.
I suppose I should be ashamed of the condition of the bathroom. I reckon I ought to have more pride in my house or something. But I don’t, not that bathroom, anyway. I never use it. When we remodeled it, taking out the 1967 fixtures and putting in lovely new things and removing the orange and green wallpaper and replacing it with a lovely tan paint, putting in brushed nickel faucets and hardware…I thought it looked right classy. It still could, if it were clean. Maybe…just maybe, out of the pure goodness of my heart, I’ll go clean it. Maybe.
Filed under: bits and pieces, childhood, dogs!, family, Good grief | Tags: Home and hearth, Kids, Spouse
The trip to the grocery store…oy vey. It was Big Groceries, too, a whole buggy full. I was nearly checked out, maybe 5 items left, and…the cash register computers died. All of them. The cashier said “uh boy…last time this happened it was 3 hours. You might want to just unpack your bags (I use cloth totes for myriad reasons) and reshop later.” So that’s what I did. And it has been discombobulating, because all day yesterday I would set out to do something and think “Oh yeah! I have (this thing I bought this morning) and can do this!” only I didn’t. Even supper turned into Default Dinner due to confusion about what I had and what I didn’t. So I am going to try again this morning. If it happens again, I’ll go to a different store.
Ok, this morning Terry and I were sitting there, having coffee, and he recalled an event of 20 years ago that was hilarious then and still is today.
Will, age 4
The dog (I don’t even remember which one)
The setting: In the living room of our house in South Alabama. The dog is asleep, Terry and Will are just muddling around.
Will: “I am going to go piss in the dog’s ear.”
Terry: “um…..what do you mean?”
Will: “You know, go up to her and go ‘psssst’ in her ear.”