Vacation Countdown: 18 days!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
During the summer, long weekends are just another day.
Albeit this one wasn't as quiet as others have been.
When it is around here?
I haven't been sleeping well lately.
Again.
The last couple of nights, around 1.00 am, the rounds of tossing and turning begin.
Pushing Frankie around, forcing him to move from one comfortable position to another.
I did try to go back to bed after having something to eat.
Hunger is usually what rousts me out of bed in the first place.
That or the necessary morning ablutions of my poochies.
But, as often happens when I try to go back to sleep in the morning, Stephen snoring softly beside me, Goblet buzzing around, purring, giving off all the signals that she's looking for some earlobe sucking time. . .
I fall asleep.
But it isn't a fitful sleep.
In fact, I had a dream that Em and I were arguing in a store and she stormed out, me following her, carrying two pairs of skinny jeans valued at $50.00 a piece.
No store alarms went off, me and Em continuing our tete-a-tete, and when we realized that I still had the jeans in my hands, Em responds:
Just keep them.
No one knows.
And when I was on my way back to store to return them, Em no longer angry with me, but protesting my law abiding turn of attitude, saying things let's just keep one pair. . . .
At which point I woke up.
Meaning I'll never know if I would have given in to Em's entreaties for "free" skinny jeans, or if I would have returned them to the store.
I'd like to believe honesty would trump my teenage daughter's fashion fetishes.
Up, finally, not at all rested, to see my husband showered, dressing and getting ready for to head into work.
To which I responded, NO!!!!!!!
Before dozing into the land of lawlessness, I thought it would be nice to have a sit-down-all-together-family-meal.
All three kidlets accounted for.
Meaning I'd have to call Mer and ask her to come over.
Stephen agreed to stay home long enough to have a sit down meal and for me to shower so afterwards, while the kids were doing the dishes and general Mom-made-a-great-meal-cleanup, we'd head into the quiet and serenity of our respective offices.
But first, I had to inform the kids that a homecooked meal was in off.
I encountered Em on the stairs, carrying a yummy toasted bagel, covered with cinnamon sugar.
And I shared my meal plans with her, to which she replied, I can eat more, don't worry.
But, she said, you'd better get to Keith.
How come?
Because he's making scrambled eggs.
Running into the kitchen. . . .
. . .okay, running may be a bit outside the realm of truth. . .walking quickly is probably more accurate. . .
I yell, POOKIE! STOP!
He turns around, spatula in hand, eggs cooking on the stove to reply,
Why?
Because I am going to cook for you.
A nice, home cooked meal.
All of us at the table.
To which he responds, fine.
I can eat more.
So accommodating, my children.
I immediately begin the process of boiling new potatoes, snapping fresh green beans and cooking boneless, skinless chicken breast.
No anything-but-chicken menus here.
Setting Stephen the task of shelling peas and cutting baby carrots.
A veggie laden, high protein, low carb meal.
My favourite kind.
While in the process of preparing veggies and chicken, the phone rang.
Mer.
Even before I had the chance to call her.
She wanted a Mum and Mer Day Out.
Me, too.
But it wasn't in the cards.
For a holiday Monday, anyway.
But I did ask if she'd like to come over for lunch with us.
She agreed and said she was on her way.
I continued to prepare our meal, enlisting Em's help with the baby carrots.
We prepared and waited for Mer.
Until everything was ready and there was still no Mer.
I forgot that while the rest of the people in this region operate on Eastern Time, Mer runs on MST.
Meredyth Standard Time.
Which is impossible to understand, figure out, comprehend, follow.
Meaning in the time it took her to get here, I was able to finish lunch preparations, direct the setting of the table and have a shower.
Meredyth Standard Time.
Slower than any standardized time ever created.
Our meal was a typical all-family-together meal.
I have to admit, I had an agenda.
One of the reasons yesterday wasn't as celebratory as many other holiday Mondays is that Stephen and I both realized that it was August 1st.
And further realizing exactly what had to be accomplished between now and the first day of classes, September 8th.
Which caused considerable anxiety in both of us.
Cottage August 21st-28th.
Mer moving in September 1st.
Which means that Mer has to be ready to move out before we leave for the cottage.
Apartment cleaned to Stephen-standards.
My concern is that she can always find something better to do than what she needs to do.
And I am not cleaning that apartment.
When she moved back here from Ontario, she left the boyfriend in the apartment, having given notice.
Grandma was the signatory on the apartment.
Grandma ended up cleaning the apartment.
I am not cleaning that apartment.
I will collect boxes, store her stuff in the basement, let her live here, feed her, help her get through the things she needs to get through in the next few months.
But I am not cleaning her apartment.
And if it isn't cleaned, and it isn't able to be shown, then she will have to live there another month.
A month I will not be chipping in for the rent.
I am so anxious about this I am losing sleep.
Making me tired and cranky.
And these were some of the reasons why I wanted a family dinner.
Because I needed her to hear my concerns.
Worries.
How I am keeping my controlling tendencies under wraps.
Well, trying to anyway.
Because there isn't a day that goes by that I don't want to go over there and start cleaning and packing to make sure it's done and it's done right.
Especially when Mer's only response to my voiced concerns are
Don't worry.
I got it all under control.
After lunch, Stephen and I headed to the quiet of our offices.
Desperately needed quiet.
We worked for several hours, basking in the knowledge that Mer had returned to her apartment to clean.
That Em was cleaning and clearing her room in preparation for her sister-cum-roommate.
Returning home, not all that willingly, Em's room was spotless, and she had planned on moving several things to the basement to make more room.
Mer?
Sleeping on Keith's bed.
And she wonders, seriously, she does, why we are concerned.
Title Lyric: Cleaning Out My Closet by Eminem
No comments:
Post a Comment