Why is it that my grown daughter feels it is ok to ignore my phone calls? I know cell phones are invasive, and that you dont HAVE to answer them, but its her mother for God’s sake, wouldnt you think she’d pick up just to make sure everything is ok????? When she calls me, I answer. When her dad calls, 99% of the time, she answers. When I call? its a 50/50 chance she will pick up. Seriously.
You forget, when your children have grown, how interesting dinner with three little ones can be. Tonight we had our oldest daughter, her husband, and their three kids, 7, 4 and 2, over for dinner. First time we have sat more than the two of us at the table in the dining room in this new little house we have moved into. After we moved the table far enough out from the wall that the son in law could sit down, and positioned the two year old in his mommy’s lap since he obviously doesn’t do chairs….we realized 7 year old grandson had brought 2 walnuts, a hazelnut and some big nut I don’t know the name of to the table and was proceeding to try to crack a walnut with his fork, on the china, because his 4 year old sister had the cracker. I explained that, no we weren’t having nuts for dinner and scooped them into the plastic princess tea cup that the 2 year old had placed on the table. Ham loaf and garlic green beans didn’t appeal to the kids, but the corn dogs were a hit. 4 year old granddaughter ate 3, peeling the cornbread away and carefully cutting the hot dogs in small pieces, slathering them with ketchup and loving every bite. 2 year old grandson walked away from the table with 2, one in each hand. Intermittently biting the corn dogs and walking around 3 sides of the table, since the 4th side was full of his dad, crunched against the window, he probably ate almost as much as he smeared on the floor. 7 year old grandson ate two, watching the clock to make sure he and dad didn’t miss “skate night” — they had to leave at 5:00 on the dot. Amidst all this the 4 adults managed to down 2 ham loaves, a pound of green beans and broccoli salad. I really wanted a glass of wine but since they were both driving, well , it just didn’t seem fair.
At some point the two year old wandered the 4 steps into the living room ( remember, we bought a really small house) and i turned just in time to see him strip out of his diaper, poo flying across the room. Yes, poo. As my daughter ran to him and the son in law raced for wipes, Im thinking, maybe its time to potty train this guy….
This being a third child, daughter isn’t as conscientious about packing a diaper bag, and truth be told, when we had the big house and lived 5 minutes away from everyone I kept diapers and spare clothes for everyone in the dresser in the kids room. After he stripped out of his second diaper, no flying poo this time, but ruined diaper none the less, we had to go into creative mode….maybe a maxi pad stuck to his pants? No, not cool, so we just put him in a pair of soft sweat pants and hoped for the best. 20 minutes later he wandered into my bedroom, in the dark, and we heard “um, pee. pee mom.” fortunately soft sweat pants are very absorbent. we found one more pair of pants for him and packed them up to go home — before he ran out of alternatives!
Meanwhile the others were all eating fudge brownies and watching football.
All in all a successful night I’d say.
I should not complain.
Seriously should not. But, whatever, here it comes. A couple weeks ago our daughter confirmed that she needed to have minor surgery. Now, “minor” is a relative term. My.Daughter.Surgery. Those words do not blend well, so I had to go into mom mode, reminding myself that it was NOT about me, that I needed to be a resource and a source of strength. That I had to pray and accept the healing even before I saw it manifested. That I had to eat and sleep and not hover. That 3 phone calls a day with “how are you feeling?” is not appropriate or acceptable. I bought her new pajamas and slippers, made a casserole, took the day off work. “Why mom? Why are you taking off work?” Oh, I don’t know…..maybe because MY DAUGHTER IS HAVING SURGERY. “Just in case you need me for something that day”. “No, I’ll be fine”. Turns out her husband couldn’t get off that day and I was needed to do transport, sit in the waiting room drinking nasty coffee == but I was also afforded the wonderful sight of the doctor telling me that everything went well, everything looked great. Score!
Which would have been enough to make it a rough week, right? Wait for it, it gets better…
3 days before surgery we had our first snow storm of the season. Husband and son in law decided it was a good day to chop wood. (You can imagine what is coming, right?). Off they went. I did the grocery store run, stocked up on soup and chili ingredients, came home and cuddled up on the couch with coffee and my knitting. It occurred to me around noon, when there were 3 inches of snow on the ground and wicked cold, that I hadn’t heard anything. So I called. Husband assured me that they were loading the last truck and he would be home for lunch……. 2 hours later I tried his phone and the son in law….no answer… another hour passed, I finished knitting the mittens, and I tried him again. “Yeah, Im getting some xrays done”. WTF? “I fell, I think I broke a rib”. Truth is, he broke two, and had been in the ER for 3 hours, I mean, why call me? Why should I know my husband of 38 years and one day ( don’t even ask about the missed steak dinner reservations for that evening ) was in the ER?
And so began hell week. A week of cooking, shifting blankets, propping pillows, buying coffee, hugging babies, heating casseroles, handing out medicines….worrying. Scolding. Threatening to call an ambulance on Wednesday when he had decided he could sleep in the bed and then we couldn’t get him out of it. 45 hour work week…
So, last night I fell asleep at 7:00 pm. exhausted. And, of course I awoke at 3 am. I’m gonna need a nap.