The kids and I got back into town last Saturday evening from being gone the previous week. Todd left Sunday for his turn at scout camp. So we kissed goodbye after a full day together and said we’d catch up in a week. Lots of families do this, it’s not that weird. But it switches things up a bit. Inevitable, can’t be helped.
The first request the kids make when Todd goes out of town is that we have Hawaiian haystacks, which he hates. Not my favorite, but I relented, as I usually do when he’s gone. It’s tempting to forgo regular meals when he’s not around, but I just can’t do it. We did dinner as usual, on the back porch at our metal tables, lingering in the warm shade for just a tad longer than we needed to. Summer nights can be heavenly. And there is nothing better than having all your kids under your wing.
As far as housework when he’s gone, it’s mostly the same as having him here. I try. And pretty much go to bed swearing I’ll get on top if all tomorrow. I never usually care if the hand-washing ones sit for a day or three. But maybe because I knew—really knew—nothing would happen if I didn’t handle it myself this week,I spent more time than usual keeping up. Same with the floor. What with popsicles, mud, smoothies, and watermelon juice, there was only one way around it. On my hands and knees.
The shed has been demanding attention for the past year or so, and I finally felt I had no more excuses. But first we had to move the wood pile. I couldn’t help but notice how much it had deteriorated and rotted over the years. And then I realized all the dark wood chips were mouse droppings. I simply couldn’t get over the crawly feeling and had to abandon my post for weeding instead, instructing Mitchell to just huck the short logs onto the grass for now. I’d compose myself and try again later. I’ll let spiders live right beside me in the shower, the stairs, or even the bedroom. I pick up live earwigs and dead moths in my ungloved fingers to displace them outside. I’m always on the look-out for worms after a rain so I can put them back in the grass. But mice get to me. Even Callum was too grossed out and refused to finish the work (like he needed another excuse). So that left Mitchell, what a stellar woodworker. The girls and I painted, but a thirsty wooden shed with walls looking over the south and west vistas took our gallon in no time. Back to Lowe’s (as every good project entails), more brushes for good measure. We’re on our second coat now. Some of the high trim is still waiting. For me to overcome my fear of really high heights. Except that I did finish the wood pile side so we don’t leave the grass to die while Todd’s gone under a heavy load of rotting, mouse-house cottonwood logs. Mitchell and I moved most of it back under a pastel summer sun last night. There is no better way to solve the world’s problems than while you’re engaged in manual labor, distracted just enough that you don’t censor yourself as you would do in a more concentrated setting. So we talked about classic movies that hardly anyone his age knows about like Harvey with Jimmy Stewart, some of the musicals we’ve watched together like Phantom and The Music Man, as well as true classics like Monty Python and The Princess Bride. We tried to remember the words to the songs. It was sticky and hot. Neither of us seemed anxious to stop because there is not much more satisfying than seeing your work unfold before you. Just one more row and then we promised we’d quit.
While Todd and Andrew were on their own last week Todd managed to make progress on a few yard projects, but there is always more weeding. Flowers need to be dead-headed. Morning glories are more tenacious than a two-year-old in the middle of a tantrum and seemingly grow from nowhere and everywhere, it’s only surface work, there’s no end. We have grass in the raspberries and raspberries in the grass. Our strawberries are thriving and tangled. Beans and peas and lettuce and spinach and currants and potatoes all need to be picked, dug, and used up. The kids took orders from the neighbors, and we’ve tried to stay on top of the harvest. We’ll make currant jelly later, thankfully they can just be frozen for now. The kids are still doing their bucket a day of weeding. Actually, I’ve let them trade it out for wood pile moving this week. I’ve had some takers. And some weeders. Remembering back to Monday, we tackled a substantial weed-ridden area where we live. But it’s disappointing because there’s so much more we didn’t get to. Sigh. Thankfully, we will always have weeds and thus opportunities to learn to love to work.
We’re expecting eight guests this weekend, around the same time Todd gets home. Which is fine, great really. We’re excited for his family to join us for a few days. I spent the day making up six beds, putting up the crib with Bronwyn, cleaning bedrooms, trying to make it look like kids don’t live here, washing duvets and sheets, hanging them in the summer sun. Thankfully Callum was being entertained by friends so Bronwyn and I could work harmoniously on project after project.
It’s Andrew’s 18th birthday. I’ve already told you I’m not that into birthdays, but I have no idea what other people expect. I’ve asked a million times what he wanted to do to celebrate. Kind of hard with two family members missing, but I still wanted to do something. I shopped with the little kids for sleeping bags, one thing he’d specifically asked for. But how to choose? Just want to make sure he has a good adult welcome, but I’m so not the party type. Yet neither is he. So we had bacon and blueberry pancakes (hand-picked just a couple of weeks ago in Minnesota, in fact) for breakfast after sleeping in. Then he took Callum biking and Bronwyn and I met him at Olive Garden for lunch. Avery is still out of town, and Mitchell was mowing and not interested. He wanted a simple chicken dinner and we’ll have cake and presents tomorrow; he’s going out with friends tonight. So that’s how turning 18 goes down around here I guess. He also gets ordained this week, so I’ve been reminding him to follow up on that and his other church/Eagle stuff. You know how hard it is to remind people to do stuff that would be easier to just do yourself. Mostly because it uses up energy and brain space I don’t seem to have as much of anymore.
So the dishwasher’s been acting up for the past two weeks. I finally got an appointment for Thursday. And yet Wednesday I realized we really hadn’t noticed the film that had been living on our dishes any more. So I did the only thing you can do in a quandary like that. I made cookies. So then I’d have some nice greasy dishes to test my hypothesis. And of course things turned out smashing, crystal clear. Just in time to rescind my invitation to have the repair guy come tell us the same thing. I was going to have him fix our ice maker at the same time (which I could leave indefinitely, I’m fine with our 3 ice cube trays, but Todd insisted if we were having someone come out anyway, have him fix it all). I’ve also been researching washing machines. I want an old-fashioned top loader with no electronic beeps or computer parts, but it’s been mind-numbing reading the reviews of such poor quality appliances available these days. During this same past two-week period our van has been giving us some trouble, so I’d been concerned (since I’d be the one driving 1200+ miles alone with the kids), yet every time we’ve taken it in with the three different noises, it purrs like the cats who come into Todd’s vet office, having spent the past three days with vomiting and diarrhea but who now prance around without a care in the world. Our computer also crashed during this time, so we upgraded. But that’s taken some time to fiddle around with. The morning after we purchased and set up our new computer, the guy at the repair store called and said they actually could fix our old computer after all. But for about what it was worth. I told him to just recycle it. And then I called him back to tell him to go ahead and repair it, we’d use it for one of the kids. I’m so embarrassed. With all of it. Good grief. Does everyone go around in circles like this?
I figured this week would be a good time to paint the bookshelf that’s been hiding out in Mitchell’s closet. Just needed to find the right sand paper. Which made me want to clean Todd’s garage. But I had to stop myself and just leave it all for another day. I might go back this evening. I set Mitchell up for the job and was pleased as punch (whatever that means) to see him out there on his own accord sanding away. A glorious mother moment!
This was also a perfect week to iron every shirt. And I meant to start Andrew’s quilt… At least the window sills are void of fly corpses. I just cleaned the windows and tracks two weeks ago, I don't know what they love about our house.
I’ve been camping with the kids in the basement for the past several nights. I just thought it would be fun. Maybe with Andrew being so old and all, I thought it would be nice to make some memories with the little kids since I’ve witnessed first-hand how fleeting it all is. Plus it’s a lot colder and darker in the basement. But the floor was so hard. Even with our puffiest sleeping bag. And the couches are too short for how long I am. But I chose soft and squished over stretched and stiff. I woke up before 5 today, always excited that I can put the sleeping part of my day behind me and get on with my projects.
I’ve had a meeting and a million errands. I’ve made plans to get together with various friends and have just one day left of the week to prove myself. We’ve gone swimming and had water balloon fights. The dentist and my visiting teachers. If you can believe it I’m still taking kids to the splash park—we were there for three hours! The kids are on their second mowing of the week. I’ve revived the dogs who survived a day in this heat with no water. I’ve cleared away the piles by my bed and made Mitchell and Bronwyn gut their rooms. I have a load to donate. Well… the whole back of the van actually. Recycling to part with. More groceries to buy (I know we just went Tuesday).
I will admit that I haven’t exercised a single day this week. I tried to last night, a last-ditch effort to manage all the cookies I’ve eaten. But I was so impatient that I only made it through the warm-up. I figure all my log-throwing will just have to suffice this week.
One of my favorite parts of the week was sitting on our front porch in my sweatshirt yesterday morning, when it was still chilly from the night, reading. It’s usually so late by the time I get around to it, that I wanted to make it a priority. I even wrote it down. And it was perfect. Not long. But just right.
And so were the other parts. I loved cuddling up on the bed-couches downstairs reading with the kids late at night, I felt like we were camping and like a kid instead of the responsible grown up. Family prayer and scriptures just seemed cozier down there too for some reason. I loved working with the kids moving wood and weeding. I liked it when we all picked currants and just talked. It was fun gathering the beans, noting that not too many were overdone this time. So often I procrastinate and have to toss out handfuls without Todd seeing. I liked talking on the phone with a good friend while I painted the shed—there’s no better way to iron or do blinds or paint. I liked listening to our Beverly Cleary audio books as we crossed off our errands. I liked our dinners on the patio and soaking up the night air, listening to the baby birds in their house right above us.
So many parts. I’m just grateful to have been here for all of it, to have a family to take care of, to have a home that gets dirty and lived in, to have a garden and yard that produce—whether that’s weeds to help the kids learn to work or food that teaches them the law of the harvest. I’m grateful for Todd, for his short absence that helps us cherish his presence. It’s been a good week, most weeks are, but it’s just never the same when someone is missing. So even though we’re doing fine, we can’t wait till dad comes home.
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