Monday, March 30, 2009

Worry Wart

Our Grumpy is a little worry-wart.

I have probably contributed to this with my own anxiety over certain things.

One of the things that he worries about is gas for the car.

We are always traveling on Sundays and I am always thinking out loud to myself.

One of the things I always need to remind myself about is making sure there is enough gas.

I always seem to be daydreaming and there have been times when I've gasped aloud and wheezed, "I'm almost out of gas!"

My son knows about my notorious absentmindedness and he has probably envisioned all six of us walking down the road looking for the nearest gas station in a blinding blizzard or drenching rain.

It's not a pretty picture.

Now, he is the one who makes sure I am aware of the gas gauge.

Soon after we get in the car, I often hear, "Mom? Do you need gas?" or "Mom! Don't forget to get gas!"

Doc has pointed out to the boy that he is too young to be worrying so much.

Sweet Little Arms

Doc and the boys have had to contend with a grieving woman in the house since I came back.

Since my grandmother's funeral, I have been a blubbering mess.

Yesterday was awful.

I cried for two hours on the way to church. After Doc's beautiful sermon, I sat on the toilet in one of the bathroom stalls and sobbed. I even had to leave church a little earlier than usual in order to weep almost all the way home.

My family has been witness to this new and different woman and I'm sure they are wanting the old mom and wife back.

At one point, I was sitting on the couch in Doc's office weeping away when Sleepy came in.

He sat next to me and put his arms around me and we cuddled while I talked with Doc.

After a little while, Sleepy looked at me and said, "Mom, you look so beautiful."

I know there will be more days when I will cry for my grandmother and my family that is thousands of miles away, but it helps to have sweet, little arms wrapped around me for comfort.

Sunday, March 29, 2009

Spring Break 2009

I've been away for a week visiting family.

You can tell by the look of my house.

Things have gotten a little messier and certainly crustier.

The boys had their spring break and spent their days being as lazy and carefree as possible.

Because everyone knows that doomsday is approaching and school will begin again so it's time to live it up!

They've had fun watching movies, playing PS2, and whatever sorts of games that boys play.

When I was greeted by them after a week apart, I could tell they needed a little mother's care. Happy wore jeans with gigantic holes in the knees with a shirt that didn't fit. Sleepy and Grumpy wore clothes that didn't match.

I did notice they all had socks on. Which is something.

I'm sure they've driven their father up the wall.

One time, I called and I heard the boys yelling and carrying on in the background. Bashful's shrill voice could be heard yelling, "Shut. UUUUUUP!!"

Doc told me that if he heard Sleepy yell one more time, "Dad! Happy bit me!", he was going to go upstairs and bang their heads together.

Yes. Things have been a little crazy around here without my tender-loving care. (Or you could call me the drill-sergeant.)

Grumpy even has a black eye.

Courtesy of Sleepy.

Are You My Sweetheart?

This morning, I was sitting in the front row in church with my boys.

I turned to Bashful, took his chin in my hand, and asked, "Are you my sweetheart?"

I'm his mom so I don't care that the kid is 12 years old now and I'm probably seriously weirding him out.

He didn't answer me at first and just kind of grunted.

I wasn't going to take that as an answer and stubbornly asked, "Are you my sweetheart?"

Out of the corner of his mouth, he muttered, "Yes," probably hoping no one was listening.

To embarrass him further, I squealed, "Oh, goodie!" and smothered his face with kisses.

Brain Matter

We were in the car driving home from the airport.

I had spent the week in WV and Doc and the boys were picking me up.

Sleepy and Happy were telling me what they wanted to be when they grow up.

Happy wants to be an airplane pilot and a firefighter.

Bashful's response was, "Well, you'll be rich, but you'll be so busy your brain will explode."

Sunday, March 15, 2009

I did some cleaning this week.

I went at it with a vengeance.

My kids even noticed and I got a couple comments from Sleepy and Happy.

"Hey, Mom! You went to WalMart and got new stools!" exclaimed Sleepy.
"Uh, no, son. I just cleaned them," I explained drily.

A little while later, Happy became incredulous and yelled, "Mom! You cleaned the stools?!"
"Uh, yes, Happy, I did."

Okay, so I get the hint.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Dog Day Morning

Monday morning dawned bright and clear as usual here in the semi-desert. It was the day of picking up your dogs from the kennel after being away for the weekend.

I went to get our dysfunctional bowel animal from her home away from home and was greeted with whines and excitement. She is always happy to come back home. Putting her in the backseat, I had to constantly tell her to get out of my face while I was driving.

"Yes, yes. You get to go home now. Good doggie. No! Get out of my face, dog! Okay, it'll be alright. Good girl."

After I filled the tank with gas, I turned toward home and I ended up behind a pickup truck with two beautiful yellow labs standing in the truckbed.

I commented to Leigh about the two nice doggies and how pretty they were, but she didn't seem too impressed with them.

A little ways down the road, I was chatting with the dog (don't ask me why) when my eyes were riveted on the truck flying down the road in front of me.

I never thought I'd see the day, but one of those yellow labs did a somersault out of the truckbed, and rolled over and over on the side of the road creating a cloud of dirt.

By the time the dog had finished rolling around and stood up, the owner had hit the brakes. Thankfully, the dog looked fine to me if a little dazed.

I'm sure I made a comical impression with my mouth wide open yelling, "Oh, my gosh!" over and over again.

I may have yelled at our dog and okay, so maybe I have spanked her, too, (I have since learned that doesn't all) but I can say she has never fallen out of my car.

Of course, that's not to say that won't ever happen either.

Little Rabbit Foo-Foo

We were cuddling in my favorite chair by the window enjoying the view of the mountains when Happy announced to me, "I don't like bunnies."

This was surprising to me since he is always outside looking for them in the bunny-made burrows in the bluffs behind our house.

His brother, Grumpy, is always sticking up for the plant-eating creatures and whenever I tease him about getting out the BB gun, he is always ready with a quick and panicky response about how he thinks of that notion.

Bashful even wants a bunny for a pet which I've adamantly informed the child, "Never, ever, ever." (I also said this about the dog, the cat, and the birds, but look how that worked out.)

So, I gave Happy a squeeze and asked him why he doesn't like bunnies. He replied, "I like eagles better. I think the eagles need to come and eat the bunnies."

Well, okay then.

Monday, March 9, 2009

Leave Taking

Our little Happy is quite the little worry-wort.

Last Saturday, I left to take Grumpy to his basketball game. Happy watched Grumpy and me very carefully as we put on our shoes and walked out the door. I kissed him and told him I would be back later.

A little while after I left, Doc put his shoes on to go outside and get the mail. Happy seems to be under the impression that whenever Daddy puts his shoes on, he is going to church.

So, when Doc put his shoes on, Happy thought he was leaving. He said, "Mommy left with Caleb. If you go to church, I be scared."

Thursday, March 5, 2009

A Windy Night

Previously published June 8, 2008.

It was 9:00 in the evening and I had just put the boys to bed. I went to look into Bashful's room and sighed forlornly as I looked at his empty bed. He had gone for an overnight stay with his dad up in the mountains and I was lonely for him. Wryly, I wondered what kind of mournful mom I am going to turn out to be when the kid leaves for college someday.

The wind had picked up considerably in the last few minutes and was howling like a banshee. There isn't a lot of precipitation where we live. When we actually get a thunderstorm, we prop our chins in our hands and stare out the window in awe. When we get a snowstorm, we immediately bundle into our winter paraphernalia and go romping in the snow. We take what we can get when it actually happens.

One thing we do get a lot of is the wind. The wind can get to a person sometimes. Drives me batty with the way it howls right along with the coyotes. When I leave the windows in the bedrooms open, the wind is so strong the doors slam shut and give me a fright enough to make my heart slam in my chest.

This particular night, I looked out the front window to see my boys' shoes on the front step. I decided to bring them in before they were blown away. I struggled to open the front door. The wind just wanted to slam it shut again, but I was determined. I squeezed myself through the opening and thought if I used my ample hind-end to prop it open, I would be able to reach down for the shoes and make it back into the house just fine.

My butt was no match for the wind.

As I bent down to pick up the shoes, the door slammed shut. Even as I turned to try the doorknob, I knew it was locked. Knowing Grumpy had just gone to bed and hoping that he didn't fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, I pounded on the door calling Grumpy's name.

No one came.

I debated with myself. Sneezy had just fallen asleep five minutes ago after a horrendous time of getting him to sleep. I also realized that I couldn't stand outside forever, so I rang the doorbell.

Pandemonium within. The dog started barking her head off and the baby was immediately and rudely awakened. I could hear him protesting this offense vehemently through the door.

Still no one came.

Pounding on the door, yelling Grumpy's name, and ringing the doorbell two more times finally brought my knight in shining armor to the rescue.

I'm thinking maybe I won't disassemble the doorbell after all.

Monday, March 2, 2009

Name Calling

This past Saturday, I had the opportunity to take my son Grumpy to his basketball game.

I was looking forward to enjoying myself while watching cute kids dribble and shoot. I picked a seat in the bleachers and with a big "go get 'em" smile on my face, stuck my thumbs up to let my son know that I was there to cheer him on.

An hour later, I sighed with relief when I felt the cool breeze on my face as Grumpy and I left the school building.

That was one of the longest hours of my life!

I did enjoy watching cute kids dribble and shoot. I did enjoy watching my son dribble and pass and block. It was great! The problem was the parents sitting behind me.....yelling in my ear.

Don't get me wrong. I encourage all parents to cheer for their kids. But this is what I heard.....for an hour......

"Get the ball, Taylor!", "Shoot the ball, Taylor!" "Steal it from him, Taylor!", "Get the rebound, Taylor!", "Good job, Taylor!", "Steal it from him, Taylor!", "Go all the way to the basket, Taylor!", "Get the rebound, Taylor!", and so on.

I wanted to reclaim my childhood by putting my hands over my ears and yelling, "Just shut up!"

It was painful.

I told Grumpy as we pulled out of the parking lot that if I ever hear the name "Taylor" again, it will be too soon.