I wonder if Mary ever had seasons like this in her house...
"James, you are going to have to get one of the other mom's to put you on her donkey to get to Hebrew class tomorrow. I have to run over to the temple with Jesus so He can be about His Father's work."
"Aw, come on. You ALWAYS take Him where ever He wants to go. You treat Him like the Messiah!"
"Keep talking back to me like that James and I am telling your Brother!"
Each hour brings a new task to accomplish, either in house or in the car.
In the mornings I run my oldest to swim practice...something I am thrilled she has been doing. Or at least I was until she told me the time for practice changed to the afternoon...and I cried. Yeah, don't mess with a mommy's running. Her coach called the other night to tell me not to worry about the time changes and that she could work with me about getting Liz where she needs to be. Coach Mary is one of five children and I have no doubt has some residual mercy for mommies on run time. Bless her heart.
In the afternoons I run Jack to either his tutor or football. He has a new assistant coach that we will call "new George" because he is new and his name is George. We already have the best head coach, "Taliban George" thusly named for the two or three tours he has served for our nation over seas in the war on terror. We've known Taliban George for over five years now and we adore him. When he called last night to tell me practice was cancelled because of the heat, I told him I had a problem with New George.
"What did he do?" Asked with the gruff voice of the Marine he is.
"Evidently New George has a problem with Jack being late to practice. In the five years you've known us, we are only late if there is a reason. Last time I checked, Jack does not drive. So if New George has a problem with Jack running late, he can address it with me or John. Okay?"
"Yes, Ma'am. Good point." Said Taliban George.
Hooh-rah!
In between yesterday, we threw a party for Caity's birthday....yeah, the bathroom does need to be cleaned downstairs, dear child. No, you can't just close the door. Thank you.
Yes, I mean all the papers need to be picked up.
Close the garage door, means close the garage door.
Sigh...I am sorry, Caity. When you said you wanted an Oreo Cookie cake, I assumed you wanted a cake made with home made Oreo cookies crumbled in and on it. I had no idea you wanted a cake that looked like an Oreo...I am pretty good, but The Cake Boss, I am not.
John gave Caity her purity ring last night. Oh, so pretty just like she is.
The darling thing just wanted to show me her gifts...sorry dear, your three hours of fame are over. I need to move on to the next task. Show me later, okay?
No Maggie, let's not talk about your party right now. I have Brennan's party, then Jack's party, Halloween, Daddy's birthday, Thanksgiving and the Christmas party to plan first. Sorry. I know having your birthday three days before Christmas was poor planning on my part, but it was the best I could do.
Brennan and I went to a meeting for my sister-in-law earlier in the week. She is not well and living about an hour south of us. John and I met with her to discuss her moving closer to us. The wheels are in motion on that and I asked for a week or two reprieve from running on this subject. The powers that be must have seen the look in my eye that meant they needed to say yes...and so they did.
After the meeting, Brennan attended her open house for Junior High...yeah, late bus is no more. Budget cuts you know. So if Brennan does join anything, I will be picking her up. Of course I will.
Caity, when does Civil Air Patrol start again?
John, your suit needs to go to the cleaners for the wedding we have tomorrow...no, I don't know where the pants are. Yes, the blue shirt is fine.
I told him this morning I that I was not going to the wedding itself, just the reception. I have been gone to much this week and feel like I need to be here for the kids...
"You can skip that too if you want to. I understand..."He says as he grabs his to go coffee and no lunch...oldest child forgot to bake the bread.
Actual translation: "I am trying to help. "
Wife translation: "I can do this without you. Daggers in the heart. Tears."
Proud to say, the actual translation won out.
"We need to sit down together to work out what I am doing with my jobs." He said, passing the first test of wife stress...should have quit while he was ahead.
"Yeah, I'll get back to you with my day planner." Said only in my heart.
"Okay, Hon. I'm on it." Said with my mouth.
Oh, and while I thought I was looking all cute and tiny again, evidently I was way fatter this past year then I thought. 15 pounds gone, but at least 10 more to go...how could all of this running mean nothing fits? I am going with the fact that I am all muscle. Yeah, big hanging muscle on the front of my chest like mozzarella hanging from the ceiling of a good Italian deli.
My next post will be written from a home for the bewildered.
"Run ye to and fro through the streets of Jerusalem..." (Jerimiah 5:1)
Sorry, Lord. I can't run around Jerusalem right now. I gotta run me through the streets of Poughkeepsie!
2 comments:
YOU MY DEAR ARE A BLESSING TO ME.
Oh, Mair - I am laughing WITH you. My sons are grown now, but I can remember those days of "running" everywhere - usually frantically, usually late!! Their schools were far from home, the bus cost too much to use, so Mom's Taxi got quite a workout (they also had sports, and a thousand other "things" that seemed to come up at the last minute - ie, "Oh yeah, Mom, I forgot...I need to get..." - click the meter, and off we went again!) I was regularly driving about 400 miles a week (Truly - I kept track).
But now they're in their 20's, on their own, and I miss those days...So, hang in there, you're doing a GREAT job!
P.S. Don't worry - the mozzarella will eventually go away!
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