...

...and I find myself asking the same question.

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At the airport

All that rush and lack of sleep and we're here early- Dad would be proud. Chris is operating on the least sleep of all so he is the crankiest. Ant is tired but still totally capable of being a pill. Ten minutes ago, Chris turned to me and asked if we were allowed to beat him. I told him he could last one more hour until Ant gets on the plane.

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One Skill Among Many

Helping Ant pack for his trip gives me the warm fuzzies, and not because I'm an asshole. I have spent the last 5 years teaching him how to pack. We started out with me choosing what he needed, and have graduated to him packing his own stuff with very little supervision. For Topaz, he's got it down and rarely messes that up anymore. I'm still heavily involved in the packing for the annual trip to Grandpa's, but only in a consulting role. Ant decides what he thinks he'd like to wear and I only help him edit rather than do it myself. Maybe this seems trivial, but it goes on my running list of things that I have taught him. This skill comes from me.

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!!!

Yesterday was laundry, laundry, laundry, but I reserved some time at night to bake some more homemade bread and get ready for today.  It was just amazing- all I had to do was make my sandwich because the rest of my lunch was already made!  My Diet Pepsi was cold!  My keys were next to my purse!  I found myself walking out the door on time without having to turn around at the top of the hill and drive back to the house for anything!  And my lunch was awesome!  Homemade bread!  Mmmmm!

And whatever will I do tonight with all my free time since my laundry is done?  I've been leaving Ant a chore list every day and he's been doing them without complaint!  Tomorrow ought to be interesting- how will I assign him chores if they're already done?  We're off Wednesday for the 4th when we take Ant to the airport and I've taken off Thursday, so here's my work schedule starting today:

On, off, off, on, on, off, off, on, off, off.  Yeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

My Favorite Summer Moments

As we return from our walk, the sun is just setting, illuminating every drop of water the sprinkler shoots across our front walk. The grass was cut today so the lawn looks and smells lovely. There are still some clumps of roses on the bushes against the garage- and it's there the sprinklers are aimed to reach. Ant's staying over at a friend's house, so it's just Chris and me and our two dogs that have to cross the water gauntlet. I go first and try to time it on the way with the ever present reliance on luck. I get sprayed. Riley is next and she knows she'll get wet, so she just skirts the bushes. Her face is scrunched up but one eye is blinking so she won't run into the steps. Chris sends Jasmine through and she doesn't rush but follows Riley's path against the bushes, wagging her tail, padding towards the door and blinking a lot. The girls shake off the water and we all watch Chris. He stands at the edge of the garage, poking his head out with his cool guy sunglasses on. He measures, then starts to jog through. He gets sprayed in the face and laughs.

I love coming home to find the sprinklers on. I'm starting to wish I could bring everyone I know to the edge of my walk at sunset and watch how they decide to cross. Not only is it an interesting personality test, but it's also impossible not to laugh when you're running through a sprinkler. Except for the dogs, of course.

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Is it possible to write a blog on a Monday?

Not so far.

Today I got asked, “Do you have cords?”

“Cords?”

“For the switchboard.”

So… twenty minute lunchtime blog.  Can she do it?

Yesterday, Bubba was over hanging out with Ant and Chris was working.  I had already wasted a lot of breath asking Ant to do the same three things over and over and I was not amused.  I talked to Mom at some point that afternoon when my last nerve was frayed and I snarled about children while cleaning out the Dodge.  I had just told the boys to go eat lunch because they never think about it until 4 and then they want to eat burritos.  So they go into the kitchen and Ant asks if we finally have bread.

Yes, the bread that I made.

“Does it taste like real bread?”

Remembering my 13-year-old self and hell, my 23-year-old self, I could find this question perfectly reasonable.  However, my 33-year-old self just invested lots of hours and love into that bread.  I resisted telling him he didn’t DESERVE my bread and just asked him to try it and find out.

“Yeah, no.” he announced.

Then the two of them made sandwiches with pointed commentary about how they HAD to eat sandwiches and how DIFFICULT it was to slice and how IMPOSSIBLE it was to spread peanut butter on it.  I am silently snorting like a bull in the living room, pawing the floor.

So Mom and I talk right after that and in the middle of the conversation, Ant comes out to ask me if Bubba can spend the night again.  I already said no earlier, and I’m on the phone, but he tries to debate with me anyway.  Shortly after that, Mom and I got off the phone and I went in to explain to the boys that tonight wouldn’t work, but we’d look into options before Ant left for Grandpa’s.  They continued to push for THAT night.  Then I walk into the kitchen and see the hamper is still sitting outside and not clean as I had asked for twice earlier.  So I ask Ant why it’s not done.

“I’ll do it later.”

Well, you’ll have lots of time, because you’re grounded.

“WHAT!?!?!”  And then he pouts for about half an hour while I walk around the house and try to collect my marbles.

Mom and I had been talking about feeling trapped in the house because Chris and I are keeping pretty opposite schedules.  It is difficult to have to go to work while everyone else sleeps, even if Chris is working hard during different hours.  Besides that, there are so many things I feel I have to do simply because nobody else will volunteer.  Mom suggested that I get out or come home late some days and go get groceries or go to an art museum or something to spend some time alone or with a friend.  I am seriously looking forward to my month off while Ant is gone just for the space and quiet to not have to tend to anyone’s needs but my own.  I do need that- even when he’s home, but something else occurred to me about dealing with Ant: He needs to feel like I depend on him.

Look at Mother’s Day- I explained to him that I was going to spend 8 hours trying to meditate and release stress, and I didn’t want to come home and re-stress.  He spent all day cleaning the house with no help from Chris.  It changed his whole outlook to be responsible for something other than taking out the trash.

I decided that one night a week he will be responsible for making dinner.  I should probably come up with more stuff like this and please- somebody remind me about this when he comes back home.  So Jennyway, he was still pouting a little when we dropped Bubba off and were driving to the store.  I told him the plan and he was still giving me one-word answers, but said he wanted to make tacos.  At Wal-Mart, he volunteered to stand in line for me at the returns line, but I told him he could go pick out what we needed.  He brought back tomatoes and lettuce and went on a mission for not too many tortillas at a decent price that were larger than taco size.  We got ground turkey and cheddar cheese and discussed how to make tacos.  He asked me to do nothing but supervise.

At home, he put the meat on and asked if I could cut the tomatoes.  I reminded him I was supposed to stay out of the kitchen, but volunteered to grate the cheese.  He had this lovely air of urgency about him, worried about getting everything ready in time.  He asked what he should season the meat with and I told him to smell the herbs and spices.  He thought rosemary smelled nice and I asked him to think about what would go well with the meat.  He picked oregano.  We talked about slicing tomatoes and how easy it was to slice fingers instead.  He was incredulous until he almost did it.  I told him how to break up the big pieces of meat and why you should tear lettuce instead of chopping it.  I did take over the tomatoes so he could finish the lettuce and break out the tortillas.

He got two plates from the cupboard and found dishwasher residue on one.

“There’s no way we’re using THAT,” he announced.

Ha ha ha.  Welcome to my world.

Ant whipped up some pudding while I set up the movie.  We watched Hop and ate wonderful, tasty tacos, then some sugar free butterscotch pudding.  After the movie, I washed dishes while Ant put the food away and wiped down the counters.

“Does this count as my meal for the week?” he asked.

“Yup.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then says,

“But tomorrow starts a new week, right?”

Boys (Or: GAAaGGGHHH!!!)

Boys: We're done, can we go now?

Jenny: Yep, check in in two hours.

Ant: So, 2?

Jenny: No, 2:45. Two hours.

Ant: So, 2:00.

Jenny: What time is it now?

Ant: 12:45.

Jenny: So two hours would be...

Ant: Oh, 2:45.

Jenny: Yes. Check in at 2:45.

Ant: 3?

Jenny: 2:45!!!

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