Expert on the etiquette of perilous times.
Paul had a departmental kickball game yesterday. His department took on legal. As his office is not far I threw the kids in the van to watch for a bit. There needed to be a record of a 37 year old man planning kickball with a bunch of other adults.
Getting ready to take some pictures I realized that the batteries I thought were charged were not.
Oh the humanity!
Other than the large scrape on his right knee there is no record of the event.
Since getting up after 1 a.m. I have chit chatted with:
David who was getting Ren a glass of water.
Then Torey and Ren who needed to go to the bathroom.
Later David again, looking for cold medicine.
Finally I thought I heard Christopher’s voice, but it was David who answered my motherly knock on the bathroom door. I staggered back surprised.
“Did you just blow your nose?”
“Yeah,” he mumbled.
“Oh, I thought it was Christopher talking.”
I’m going to bed.
Yesterday morning, slipping in and out of sleep, I had a dream about my father.
I was at a party hosted by one of my mother’s dear friends who died 9 years ago. Walking around, looking for someone I knew I ran into him. He looked really good, a youngish version of himself. I reached to hug him and began to cry, really sobbing. I think I thought my mom was dead and here we were at her best friend’s party.
Soon after I awoke and remembered that my mom is alive and it is my dad who is dead.
I think this is only my second dream about my father since he died three years ago. The first was in November and was one of those profound life changing dreams where I saw things I had never been able to see about my relationship with him and my life in general. I need to write about it, but I am resisting.
I am telling you this instead.
But now I am going to logout and obey.
When the Legumes play house or zoo or kitty or puppy, the Peanut, despite her relative youth, generally plays the dominant role. Half the time, when I respond to Beanie’s cry of, “Mama!” it is actually the Peanut to whom she is calling while they play. If you are looking for the mother/zookeeper/owner, Rennie is usually your girl.
Today I happened to notice that Ren was the baby and so I immediately investigated.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
When she hesitated, Eden immediately answered for her, “Cashy.”
“How old are you?”
Here Ren was on firm ground, “Free,” was the quick reply.
“What’s your name?” I asked Eden.
“Mom.”
“How old are you?”
“Four.”
“Oh, so you’re a young mother.”
She nodded. “Yeah…I don’t know where my wife is.”
“Husband?”
“Yeah,” she readily agreed, “but I’ve got a ring.”
And then they both ran off to look for it.
