the night shift locusts.
Monday was the first day back at work for Hubby. He had been home since December 19th. Monday was also the first day I didn’t have to try to control myself while he opened the fridge and stood there, then…
happy new year.
Here at my house we are starting off the new year with only 5 spoons. Again. That kid, Not Me, has also managed to lose a tv remote. Again. The missing remote is of course an emergency and a terrible…
deja vu.
I don’t know how many people remember the young man that was with us briefly over the summer. The same young man that took off out a window. I have thought about him often since then. Earlier this month a…
the liquor cabinet in the floor.
I asked for clean rooms. Someone tip toed out of the house in an effort to avoid being held accountable to the room cleaning deal. Took me a bit to realize she was gone. Much like parents to toddlers, it’s…
my limits.
I try not to make decisions when I’m angry. It’s a work in progress. Sometimes I’m good at it, sometimes not so much. Hubby is mostly aware that he’s not great at it either, so he tells me to wait…
peace on earth.
It’s Christmas Eve. I may have forgotten if it had not been for the cops on my porch this morning who so kindly reminded me that, “everyone wants to be with their family today.” Ahhh, yes, that’s what I hear. …
everything comes out in the wash.
As we have already established, I do an insane amount of laundry. I do that same amount of laundry on regular days, let alone bed stripping days. It’s a lot. I skipped some days this week as hubby is on…
to squat or not to squat.
There are a lot of people up in this house. Right now, the human occupant count is 11. (12 if you count that kid, Not Me.) I have everyday, matching, dining service for at least 20 people. It was once…
ho ho ho.
It is no big secret that I am not a big Christmas fan. It is the gift thing. I like the giving of gifts part, it is the being on the receiving end that I can’t handle. The pressure to…
how old am I?
I had an interesting conversation with Mr. Gatsby last night about chronological age versus biological, or emotional age. I try often to attempt to help others around me understand trauma and the changes it makes to the body. I feel…
