Weekend Wrap Up in Incomplete Sentences
Friday night:
YoungestBoy baseball game.
Babygirl, Twinboys and I went to pool. They swam while I tried to stay warm in my jeans and long sleeves.
Saturday:
Donuts.
Husband prepared for and conducted memorial service.
I dusted, vacuumed, shuffled books around my shelves, decluttered and straightened up three bedrooms upstairs.
Babygirl boycotted nap.
YoungestBoy baseball game again.
Escaped house at earliest opportunity to shop for baby gifts. Stayed away until after kids' bedtime, but returned to find them still up.
Sunday:
Church. I wandered the hallways with Babygirl during church. Not so refreshing for the soul and not a good enough reason to wear pantyhose, but I trust this stage won't last forever.
While husband napped with Babygirl, I drove to the closest thrift store to browse until it was time to go to a babyshower at 3:00 p.m. Found bargains.
The baby shower was for the mom whose five-year old son died recently from a blood disorder. In fact, he died on April 15. Her baby girl is due on June 27. I have never been so aware of the almost-simultaneous joy and grief of life. I wondered how she can stand to press a hand to her swollen belly and feel the life wriggling inside. Does she fear another loss? Does she allow herself to hope? I would be terrified, I think.
Over the weekend, when I've seen the news coverage of the 18-year old girl who disappeared in Aruba, I've looked at Babygirl and thought, "Never. You will never leave my sight." And my husband said, "I would never let her go on a trip to a foreign country when she is 18!"
I agreed, but. I went to Tahiti when I was 16. And Jamaica when I was 18. I didn't go to drink and party, true, but still. I had a passport. And I had parents who let me go and never let on if they fretted about me while I was gone.
This will be out last full week of school. Before Saturday, I have to prepare for a training meeting for my volunteers for Vacation Bible School. I have a decorating committee meeting on Thursday. My "to-do-or-not-to-do" list is still long and unmanageable.
My "vacation" is rushing toward me like a tornado. Help.
Tonight:
Upstairs of my house: tidy, dust-free, clean.
Downstairs of my house: complete pig-sty, neglected while I concentrated on upstairs. Sigh.
YoungestBoy baseball game.
Babygirl, Twinboys and I went to pool. They swam while I tried to stay warm in my jeans and long sleeves.
Saturday:
Donuts.
Husband prepared for and conducted memorial service.
I dusted, vacuumed, shuffled books around my shelves, decluttered and straightened up three bedrooms upstairs.
Babygirl boycotted nap.
YoungestBoy baseball game again.
Escaped house at earliest opportunity to shop for baby gifts. Stayed away until after kids' bedtime, but returned to find them still up.
Sunday:
Church. I wandered the hallways with Babygirl during church. Not so refreshing for the soul and not a good enough reason to wear pantyhose, but I trust this stage won't last forever.
While husband napped with Babygirl, I drove to the closest thrift store to browse until it was time to go to a babyshower at 3:00 p.m. Found bargains.
The baby shower was for the mom whose five-year old son died recently from a blood disorder. In fact, he died on April 15. Her baby girl is due on June 27. I have never been so aware of the almost-simultaneous joy and grief of life. I wondered how she can stand to press a hand to her swollen belly and feel the life wriggling inside. Does she fear another loss? Does she allow herself to hope? I would be terrified, I think.
Over the weekend, when I've seen the news coverage of the 18-year old girl who disappeared in Aruba, I've looked at Babygirl and thought, "Never. You will never leave my sight." And my husband said, "I would never let her go on a trip to a foreign country when she is 18!"
I agreed, but. I went to Tahiti when I was 16. And Jamaica when I was 18. I didn't go to drink and party, true, but still. I had a passport. And I had parents who let me go and never let on if they fretted about me while I was gone.
This will be out last full week of school. Before Saturday, I have to prepare for a training meeting for my volunteers for Vacation Bible School. I have a decorating committee meeting on Thursday. My "to-do-or-not-to-do" list is still long and unmanageable.
My "vacation" is rushing toward me like a tornado. Help.
Tonight:
Upstairs of my house: tidy, dust-free, clean.
Downstairs of my house: complete pig-sty, neglected while I concentrated on upstairs. Sigh.
posted by Melodee at Sunday, June 05, 2005
6 Comments:
I also have that stay-away-till-after-bedtime, come-home-child-still-awake syndrome.
You know, they never tell you about the part where your babies grow up, and you teach them to drive, and you get them passports, and you send them into the world, and you watch them go, and, in your heart, you still feel exactly the same way about them that you did when they were three.
I went back and looked, and it isn't in any of the press material. Because if people knew how hard it was to send children -- even grown ones -- into a scary, dangerous world, they'd never become parents.
And wouldn't that just be a fine kettle of fish?
:)
~C~
^Thats how it goes. You get one romm clean and another dirties. It cant all be clean at one time. sigh
Mel, my wife and I lost our first son at 32 weeks gestation and a month later she was pregnant again. We were scared to death. We knew it was a completely different pregnancy and what happened the first time would in all liklihood not happen again. But we were still scared.
It's different now, but it's been 13 years and we're still a little scared.
Rev-Ed, I'm sorry to hear about your loss.
We sent our son to France when he was sixteen (in fact, he had his seventeenth birthday while he was there). It was a foreign exchange. He stayed with the family who had sent their son to live with us for a month the previous year.
It was scary. But it was good for him and I worry less about him now as he travels because it helped him be a more confident traveller. Really. I worry less. Honest. Uh huh. Much less. Sure.
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