IS that my son you’re talking about?
Honestly, it this was just written down somewhere on paper, I’d swear that I wrote it!! But I didn’t, Oh The Joys did…
Honestly, it this was just written down somewhere on paper, I’d swear that I wrote it!! But I didn’t, Oh The Joys did…
This is NOT our Christmas Tree.
Nope, neither is this one!
You see, last year we went and cut down our own tree. We loved the experience. We decided that this would be our family’s tradition.
Then Hubby had surgery on his arm. And the whole ‘let’s saw down a tree and throw it on top of our man-van’ idea went out the window. So our family headed to our local Home Depot yesterday to pick out our own small 3–4 foot tall tree.
Hubby was feeling better so he came too.
His eyes got big.
Really big.
He needed a 6–7 foot tree.
We decided on the one pictured above. It was the one! Beautiful, full, no holes. Perfect.
Now, step two. How do we get it home?
We decided that I could bat my eyes and Hubby could flash his arm sling at the young guys at the front and maybe they would throw it on top of our man-van for us.
Our plan was devised, pictures documenting the tree hunt were taken and we began lugging this perfect tree up to the register.
BUT half way to the register, Hubby stopped.
He changed his mind. He decided that we should go this weekend to a tree farm after all to cut down that tree.
He had to go!
After much minimal good hearted griping on my part, we turned around and put the beautiful noble fur back with the others.
BC and eClaire were so confused.
“Change of plans guys!! You get to pick out a potted Christmas tree!! Find the perfect one! GO!” (what the kids didn’t know is that the ‘potted Christmas tree’ was really a rosemary bush shaped like a tree! shhh don’t tell!)
So off BC and eClaire went on a hunt for the new perfect tree to bring home and decorate.
What do you think of the kids rosemary bush Christmas tree?
Smiling Mom: Good night kids. Books are done, I’ve snug-a-bugged both of you, and now it is time for you to go to sleep. The night-light is on and I’m shutting the door.
Smiling Kids: NOOO, don’t shut the door!!
SM: I’m shutting the door. Good night.
SK: NOOO, wait, I have to blow my nose, I need a drink of water, I have to peeeee. Wait, I was just refinishing the kitchen table. Wait!! I want to write a letter to Grandpa!
SM: Good night!
BC: Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Mommy?
SM: (Ignoring the repeated calls for attention)
BC: I’m scared. I’m scared. I’m scared. I’m scared. I’m scared. I’m scared. I’m scared. I’m scared.
SM: (Finally relenting to the incessant calls, opens the door) What? What are you scared of??
BC: My room, the door shut, the dark.
SM: Every night you go to sleep in the same room with your sister. There is nothing to be scared of. Good night.
BC: But I’m scared.
SM: Well. What do you want me to do about it??
BC: Replace me.
SM: Oh, I’ve thought of replacing you before buddy! What do you mean ‘replace’?
BC: You know… like you take me and put me in your bed, or you come into my bed and lay with me.
SM: (chuckling and still reveling in the idea of replacing my son with a robot who cleans or something that cooks for me) No BC, I don’t ‘replace’ you when you are scared.
BC: When I say so, you do it! OK?
SM: OK honey.
How can I argue with that?
Do you ever feel like you are standing still and the world is whirling out of control around you? When you were sober?
Hubby’s surgery was Monday. He’d doing fine. He’s a trouper really. He’s in a tremendous amount of pain that the prescribed drugs barely control. But each day is slowly getting better.
Slowly.
Hubby is a terrible sick patient. When he has the flu, I often want to flee the house for sunnier places. But usually we end up at the local ER for a bit of re-hydration instead.
Suffice to say I’d set the bar quite low for Hubby post-surgery behavior. But, amazingly, he’s doing really well. He’s set up in our bedroom with a DVD player and about a bazillion movies that he’s allowed to watch without much interruption. He’s even been able to re-watch that damned movie Blackhawk Down, that I watched once. only once. and will never ever watch again. and make Hubby quit watching when I am home. Ya that one. It’s like he gets a vacation from life, really. Well except for that throbbing shoulder. But whatever!
Anyway. Back to me.
Life is crazy. I’m tending to three seemingly helpless beings all day and all night long. I’m tired. And I’m a slave to the clock. 7:00 food, 7:30 meds/kids food, 8:30 more food, 9:00 meds. 10:00 snack 11:30 lunch, 1:00 nap 2:30 more food 3:00 meds, 3:30 snack for kids, 5:00 dinner, 6:30 get kids ready for bed, 7:00 more food, 7:30 meds/get kids to bed.
Somewhere in there I need to clean the house, do laundry, shower myself, my kids, and my husband.
I need to walk the dog take the dog for a quick bike ride around the neighborhood because she’s getting pretty board around here and has decided to show her stress by eating full sized rocks and then throwing them up the following morning. Good times.
I think I need a nap.
I’m snappy. The kids are bugging me. And they are being completely normal.
But Hubby’s doing well. And he’s been able to watch like 15 movies in the past five days! How cool is that!
So, he’s suppose to begin feeling better by about 6 weeks post-op.
The count down beings.
Only 5 weeks 2 days to go!
But I suppose I should just shut up and be thankful that I have two strong shoulders and no need for surgery. Right?
BWHhhahaha
Please.
Have we met?