My attempt to find balance with the sweets, and the sours, of life.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Assembling an Escape
I have no imminent topic today.
Not much going on, just this and that.
I'm supposed to be grocery shopping, but, really, don't we all have more than we need already? Perhaps this would be a good week to pare down the stockpiles and thin out the freezer. Yes, that's it. I'm on to something. Done. No grocery shopping. Today, anyway.
Hubbo is assembling a new computer desk as we speak, and I'm staying decidedly out of it. It's not because we don't work well together, we usually do (with some now legendary exceptions). It's because he has decided to let both kids "help." All four of us, when there is a serious task to accomplish? Not a good combination. I won't venture to explain why; it just isn't.
So I sit here, chatting with you, hiding in plain view. I'll be glad when it's over and nothing got scratched or cracked. My husband seems so calm and sure of things. It's like he doesn't know the six year old is very likely to kneel on screws any minute -- even while they're on top of the desktop board that is unadvisedly set before her on the floor. And he seems to think my son is way stronger than he really is.
My son is in the "spaghetti phase," as I call it.
He's tall for his age and growing so fast, you can almost watch it. And he is currently shaped like spaghetti -- spaghetti arms, spaghetti legs, spaghetti body -- all long and thin (I should only have such problems!), and . . . spaghetti strength. Bones may grow longer, but muscles don't grow stronger, when you're nine. So each time my husband sends my son to bring the next piece over, I cringe because I know it is a bit too heavy for him. And I know my son would sooner drop the piece directly on his feet and have it crack in two than admit to his father, up front, that it is too heavy for him.
So here I sit, talking to you, throwing in my two cents when needed: "Daddy's right, don't stand on the boards." "Yes, leave all the screws in the bag." "No, the dog does not want to help." My breathing is quite irregular as I have been holding it intermittently and erratically.
Uh-oh, there has been a pause in production. Confusion seems to have descended upon the group. The kids have been instructed to stop talking, "just for a minute." More silence. Nothing, nothing. Still nothing.
This sounds serious.
Perhaps the grocery store wouldn't be so bad afterall . . .
“Years ago my mother used to say to me, she'd say, ‘In this world, Elwood, you must be...’ - she always called me Elwood - ‘...in this world, Elwood, you must be oh so smart or oh so pleasant.’ Well, for years I was smart. I recommend pleasant. You may quote me.”~Elwood P. Dowd in Harvey
I am a stay-at-home mom who is coming to grips with the fact that my children are growing up, and that is bitter sweet. I have several pets who understand me including a couple dogs, some beautiful pigeons (yes, pigeons), some chickens who boss me around, and a mourning dove who I believe is God's little whisper to me from heaven. I was a lawyer before I got really serious and became a mom. I love to knit, write, cook, and to take good care of my family. We struggle with my daughter's Reactive Attachment Disorder, and hold hands very tightly sometimes while we withstand the high tide of her challenges. Through it all, I am blessed to have a husband who is the corner piece to my puzzle.