A Little Whine and Cheese
First the whine. I'm tired. Physically and mentally. Tired of a dirty house with tiny scraps of paper floating about everywhere. Pieces of playdoh stuck between the floor boards and long ago stickiness still smeared on the sides of the kitchen table. How, I ask myself, can a house get so doggone dirty? I mean really! My cabinets are a mess-always something slopped on them, there is constantly balls of dust sticking to all of creation (but mostly the chair legs). I'm going absolutely crazy trying to clean up the house. It's my own fault, you know. I had a little help, but honestly, who thinks that having three kids in three years is a good idea? And who in their right mind adds a fourth, not even of their own blood, making that four kids in four years. Four kids who still need to be trained in how to use a hamper all the time-not just when you are reminded. Four kids who cannot clean themselves without some degree of assistance. What was I thinking? Oh wait! I wasn't thinking. That's right! But, that's ok. I'm really just physically tired right now and complaining.
Today was Miss A's last day of day rehab. She'll go outpatient now-only 2x/week. Until we can get her into Eastgate (lots of paperwork) she'll continue up at the hospital. That's ok, though. Two days are better than five. Or even three. But, back to the topic. So, it was her last day. She got a little party complete with a balloon. The balloon was huge and mylar. All the therapists and aides and such signed it. It was so cute. We're driving home from the hospital. It's after lunch-1pm. Everyone should be tired and asleep. I know I am. Tired, that is, but not asleep. After all, I'm driving. The kids are going absolutely, ridiculously, bonkers in the back seat. Laughing, screaming craziness-all over that stupid balloon. A would bat it over to Grace or Ruth and they'd smack it back. Meanwhile, I'm trying to drive, thinking about rolling down the window and letting the balloon "escape". Only problem is 1. There would be lots of crying and 2. It's attached to Miss A's pants. No dice. I grit my teeth, remind them every nano second to quiet down and pray the traffic flows fast and we get home soon. It does-we do.
And now, the cheese, complete with after dinner goo:
Today was Miss A's last day of day rehab. She'll go outpatient now-only 2x/week. Until we can get her into Eastgate (lots of paperwork) she'll continue up at the hospital. That's ok, though. Two days are better than five. Or even three. But, back to the topic. So, it was her last day. She got a little party complete with a balloon. The balloon was huge and mylar. All the therapists and aides and such signed it. It was so cute. We're driving home from the hospital. It's after lunch-1pm. Everyone should be tired and asleep. I know I am. Tired, that is, but not asleep. After all, I'm driving. The kids are going absolutely, ridiculously, bonkers in the back seat. Laughing, screaming craziness-all over that stupid balloon. A would bat it over to Grace or Ruth and they'd smack it back. Meanwhile, I'm trying to drive, thinking about rolling down the window and letting the balloon "escape". Only problem is 1. There would be lots of crying and 2. It's attached to Miss A's pants. No dice. I grit my teeth, remind them every nano second to quiet down and pray the traffic flows fast and we get home soon. It does-we do.
And now, the cheese, complete with after dinner goo:
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