Lead Foot and Stop

Collectively, I'm not sure if I've spent this much time in a hospital.  No more hospital now, but just for now that we know of.  I feel like I haven't slept since last Thursday.
I remember being right out of high school when this happened - Dad's heart not cooperating - and feeling nearly wrecked.  It's not any different the second time around; just because he made it once doesn't ensure a second victory.  I know.  And the smell is always the same too.
I'm flabbergasted by the amount of concern and support I've gotten from school, offers to help out if needed, and I believe most of them actually mean it.  Too bad I'm in a daze when they're offering it.

Dad's recovering, and that's all that can be hoped for and expected at the moment.   We're recovering as well. I start, sometimes, to think about life without certain people, but make myself stop in a furry.

all photos via weheartit.com

Happy Weekend...

Sometimes I have to stop myself in the middle of what I'm doing to think about what I'm doing. Often, I don't even think it's me that's doing the stopping; I'm stopped by some stark realization that this is not what I had planned. Such as? Sharpening a box of pencils and writing a teacher's name on them in Sharpie.  And then dismay.  Really, I'll scrap gum off of desks if that's what needs to be done to help someone out..but it's certainly not what I envisioned doing with my life.  Whenever this happens I end buying something to make me feel better, and I don't even like shopping.

And a phone call regarding my Father being admitted to the hospital for heart failure takes even more air of my tires.  Wreck.  

Stay For Awhile

I'm rejoicing in sunshine, however short of a spurt it may be.  And the ice I've had to shovel my tires out of many a time is drizzling down the driveway and streets.
I can tell a change in the kids too, now that recess takes place outside, and they are able to deposite their energy somewhere other than the carpet. 
The only change in the air isn't the weather, as I've come to realize that I should expect my life to move with the seasons...
I wish I was someone who was rather good at waiting.  Do those people actually exist or are they only in my imagination? Maybe with my pocket full of little hearts I'll be more composed; I wouldn't want them to break.


photo via Pinterest 

Bring Your Paint Brushes

I think I'm ready to crawl inside, sleep with all my clothes on, and wait until winter is over.  Day after day of greyness.
Wouldn't it be grand if I could take my paint brush to the sky?  Like when people have those house painting parties, with a puddle of friends who have no desire to paint but do have a desire to chatter with their buddies...

I would have a group over for cupcakes and ice cream sundaes with a buffet of toppings because that's what you have when you're painting the sky, rather than pizza and beer when you're painting walls.  We'd sing along to Disney show tunes which would undoubtedly put us in a fantastic mood.  

Would we wear overalls?  Maybe, or we'd put on our graduation gowns so they would still get some sort of use out of them.

We'd finish the day in lawn chairs with our feet up and sipping cocktails.

I'd tell everyone about how I've always wanted to be a painter, but just never had any real talent for it.  "Nonsense!" you'd exclaim while gesturing towards my flamboyant and captivating sky. Then I'd blush and ask, "You really think?"  But it wouldn't matter because I'd look out my windows to the aureolin, and amber, and amaranth popping over the clouds like headlights and I'd instantly smile.

photos via flickr

Heard Without Words

He didn't even hesitate; went up with there with such ease in a gymnasium full of people. I sat on the floor nearby anticipating a bit of anxiety to arise, but nope. Like a pro! As student of the month, E took his certificate, took his medal, shook a hand and sat right back down like whatev. no big deal guys. 

I'm almost ashamed to say that I didn't really think he'd do it...but he still surprises me everyday.  I like surprises.  He may still need a hand to hold, a parachute to pull, but who doesn't when fear creeps up on them or they step foot in uncharted territory? 


Then Alex upchucked his entire lunch at my feet. Like a peace offering, except with much more liquid. 


photos via The Steward

Is Very Far Through the Snow

Waking up is a bitch.  Or should I say, having to wake up is a bitch. Three snow days in a row prove I am not a morning person; deffinitly not a before 8am morning person. I need a cup of coffee, usually two, and then we can talk.  If you want to discuss plans for the future or an incident from last night, it isn't going to happen.  And if something's broken and you want me to help fix it, be ready for a let down.
The school year will carry on much longer than it should, but I got a nice breather as a trade off.
You would think a breather would be unessassary as we haven't had a full week of school since before Christmas. Fooy. I downed my hot chocolate and tea, movies and books all while lying under the covers in my pajamas.  Being sick and being snowed in are the perfect excuses to not do anything. Don't judge.

Between Weeks

Sometimes I need a weekend for my weekend.  I'm never out of bed by 8:00 on a Saturday morning.
Saturday mornings are sacred. Don't mess with them.
But this weekend I submitted to a fifeteen month old - that mop of blond hair and blue eyes kill me everytime.  Those footie pj's are a hit too as far as I'm concerned.

I may not have gotten on a plane but after a loooong week capped by a longer Friday it was time to get in the car and drive away for a bit.  And there's something calming about a town like Quincy. Maybe the pace, maybe that everyone knows everyone else, and probably that all I'm expected to do is eat.  Eat almost to the point of immobility.
"Seconds?"
I always overeat on the road...it's part of the commitment.
And certainly since no one in my family oodles over each other as they do....family outside of the ones that lived in my house growing up. No one stops by just because it's Sunday, or makes sure to call on birthdays or is invited along for dinner.

The closest thing I can compare it to is my Dad's Mom, who rejoiced in people's presence, and made you feel like a million and a half bucks.  Then my heart is heavy; heavy for what isn't.  But then I have these moments of NOT being part of someone's family, of sitting at their table and lounging on their couch, and riding in their car on the way to bowling...that's more than a million and a half.