I enjoy my days out, wandering around with no one asking 20 questions. "Why is the grass green?", "Why does Tommy go to 2 different churches?", "Is it supposed to nice today?". You may not get that, and that's ok.
At this age I thought I'd be happily enjoying my hobbies, working, and chasing grandkids, not scheduling my every move around my forever little girl. I'm not bitter, it's just not the life imagined. Judging me? That's ok too, but you can remove yourself from my page. You don't get it and I don't have time to convince you or make you understand. I took my forever girl shopping downtown, nothing much, just time for her to get out. We spend so much time at home it's nice to just wander. But, while I'm letting her browse for treasures I overheard a woman discussing her "little girl". "I hope (name) goes first, her sisters won't want to take care of her when I'm gone." It struck a cord. I think I felt my heart stop. Who will take care of her? Am I the only one that gives a shit? That conversation that I accidentally overheard is going to haunt me for weeks, months, possibly years.
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It's been almost a year since I've been here. I've struggled. I've struggled a lot. I've struggled with me, I've struggled with my decisions. I think I've finally made peace, or a least started to see that such things are not in my control, and I can accept that. For someone that likes control, it's been a real challenge but I can at least learn to take a deep breath and move forward one step at a time. I'm on the road back to "ME". Now, who the hell is going to dig out this house! Along with my struggle I've let things go. I've let ME go, my house, and my vision. I invite you to follow my way back! Monday? Where did the weekend go?
I know where it went! I was busy shampooing carpets and washing walls. I slept Sunday afternoon away. Now I'm paying the price! A restless night, another grouchy Monday. Shit! I forgot the football uniform. (SCREECH) Note to self: The football uniform is HIS responsibility, he forgot to bring it to me!! WHOA dude! (Enter the bedroom) Where does that smell come from? Why do boys smell like that? I'm no stranger to the uniform funk, he's my 4th child. It's just something you don't get used to. Gag! I think a restructuring is in order. My older kids did their own laundry by the time they were sophomores. Maybe it was out of necessity, but they were in charge of their own clothes. Maybe it's time for him to learn that lesson. Is it worth the battle? I enter his room again, time to face the day! "Up and at 'em Adam Ant" (Where does that saying come from?) Good LORD! Where does that smell come from! |
Cynthia"Don't put an age limit Archives
July 2018
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