Grab a chair and a couple of root beers...

Okay, first... Friday night, I was on-line chatting, something I don't do often because (1) don't really have the time because of my Little Interruptions and (2) sleeping, I really like doing that when I can! But, I was chatting and really enjoying it when I heard something very large crashing around in the bushes outside my side-yard window.

Now, this is something we hear frequently, and it usually turns out to be a cat, a raccoon, a possum, or a lost dog. If it's a cat, we shoo it, if it's a raccoon or possum, we leave them alone. If it's a lost dog, we check for tags and either leave the gate open, or call the owner to come get it.

However, this was... large. Like... sounding like a drunk elephant large. And seconds later, the Impertinent Daughter texted me frantically that there was something outside her window and it was freaking Calcifer out to the point of hissing.

Well. That's new. So, being a brave and intrepid Auntie, I grabbed a flashlight, yanked on some shoes, and went out into the night to beard the Dragon, so to speak. And realized a few things.

(1) We have no lights whatsoever on that side of the house.

(2) It's really dark over there, because we have very little in the way of street lights in our town.

(3) I am 5' 3", didn't grab a baseball bat like I usually do, and was only armed with a mini Mag-light.

I shone the light into the bushes and started to stomp my way into the side yard, and... didn't, because it suddenly occurred to me what would happen if the critter in the bushes was on two legs instead of four. Already had the phone in my hand pre-dialed to 911, but you know, that just isn't enough, right? I shouted out for any person possibly there to come out, and nothing. Tossed a ball into the bushes to startle any four-legged creature into sprinting out.. and nothing.

That's when I decided to tell the daughter it was a possum and to go back to sleep.

So, yesterday, I was telling the Husbandly One about it when we heard a ruckus outside in the bushes again, except it was daylight and... we went outside to see what was going on.

This time, it was a squirrel hung up in a window screen, but it got itself sorted and took off into the bushes. Fine. So, THO and I went to look in the side yard, because we'd speculated about the big noise the previous night being a dog (a month ago, we'd had a stray dog settle himself in the bushes of the side yard quite happily). And... found something we had not expected at all.

Item One: Two milk crates shoved into place behind the bushes under the Impertinent Daughter's windows, convenient for standing on for viewing purposes through said windows.

Item Two: The wooden fence on that side is leaning INTO the yard.

Item Three: A nice little path through the grass and plants from the leaning in portion of the fence straight to the milk crates under ID's windows.

O.O!!

Then THO said, "Oh, the fence has been leaning in for a while..."

I said, "You know, a path that established takes a while to pound out."

It was rather startling to see the amount of fury building in my husband's eyes. And for a little while there, I was all for pounding down the door of the creepy neighbor's house in order to strangle one or more of their sons.

I am speaking, of course, of the Fireman and the Coffee Lady. However, upon further thought, I'm not convinced it was necessarily them. Why? Because, unlike our yard, theirs is open to the street behind us by expedient of having a large cattle gate in their fence, rather than a wooden one, and it has openings large enough for someone to just bend down and slip through. Plus there are handy garbage cans and barrels to stand on in that corner of their yard to use to climb the fence.

We've decided it would be worth it to install motion sensitive lights on that side of the house. And heavy shades for Miss Impertinent's windows.

*sigh*

The second thing to happen this weekend is that my mother called Friday afternoon and said she and the Flaky Sister were coming to visit on Saturday. Oh, well, at least I got 24 hours of notice this time, and not a call from my mom after they were already on the road!!

It was most fortunate that THO and I had already made a start on playing catchup, after two weeks of everyone being sick, because last week, the house looked like goblins had invaded and trashed the place. So there wasn't a lot to do other than cleaning the kids' bathroom, cleaning the kitchen, and tidying up in general. However, it was at some point Friday night, before I started chatting with keiramarcos and her minions, that I stopped myself from doing the manic "OMG-I-have-to-OCD-clean-EVERYTHING!!!" and said to myself, "Why am I doing this?"

Yeah, it was one of those moments. You know, the self-epiphany thing? And it all came about because of something I had said to my mother a few weeks ago, after Mom had gotten upset because the Flaky Sister had gotten sarcastic after a rather heated exchange between the two of them. I had said, "Mom, Flaky is 62 years old. She's more than an adult now, and you don't have to raise her anymore. Plus, Flaky, Blondie, and I all inherited Daddy's Smart-Ass Gene™, and you can't hold it against us. It's our sacred right to be sarcastic, especially when we're mentally exhausted, tired, or just plain cranky."

And Mom agreed.

Well, I was about to drive my family nuts with a frantic need to spotlessly clean my house when I thought, "Wait a minute... what am I doing? Why am I working so damn hard for approval I am never going to get from my sister??"

See, I had gone through this sort of epiphany about my dad back in my mid-twenties, so you could say I was sort of overdue this with my sister. The Flaky sister has a tendency, like my dad, to be hyper-critical, and to set impossible standards, and expect me to live up to them, and to withdraw affection and approval when I don't live up to them.

I started wondering when that became so important to me, when it hadn't really mattered before.

I have never been a model housekeeper. I never will be. My house will never, ever be spotlessly clean, nor would I want it to be. It will always be, at most, organized chaos, because I will always prefer spending time with my husband and children to spending time cleaning my house. Unless they're helping. And really, the only people I need to please are the three people who live with me. It's their opinion that matters to me, and if they don't have a problem with the way I do things, then... that's all that matters to me.

My husband loves me very, very much. And I love him very, very much. He pretty much knew what he was getting when he married me. He knew that I'm an indifferent cook, but I'm one WHEEE!! of a baker. And he's pretty okay with that. He loves me for my wit, my sly sense of humor, my fierce loyalty, my thinking abilities, and my extreme mattress-dancing skills. If my kitchen skills aren't quite the match of his, that's fine with him, and that's all that matters.

I had to remind myself of all of that. Because the Flaky Sister has the ability to make me doubt all of that, and I had to wonder when I gave her that power over me. Because it never mattered before.

That's some pretty stunning realizations to make about oneself, you know? Which is probably why I went online for chat, to distract myself from it, because believe me, the stress was incredible.

And Saturday, it was just worse. I actually asked the Tall Blonde to come hang out for the duration as a buffer because if there is one thing I know about my sister, she won't misbehave in front of company. She'll work at tearing me to shreds in front of my husband and children... but not in front of strangers! And while I realized that her opinion doesn't matter a hill of beans to me any more, I kind of need some time and distance to absorb it, and let it sink in, so I can parry her shots with indifference.

I love the Tall Blonde, by the way. She is... awesome. Period.

Had a good visit with my mom, who is looking better. Actually, she looks pretty darn cute, to tell you the truth, with her fluffy silvery-white hair and big smile! It gives me a pang to hug her now and feel how small she is. She's 84 now, and every time I hug her, I wonder how much longer.

So, Flaky was reasonably well behaved, and when they were gone, the Husbandly One made his awesome margaritas and poured one down my throat to combat the Killer Stress Migraine that hit me afterwards. I love his margaritas, they are delicious, and with my low alcohol tolerance, they knock me out pretty fast.

So, that was my weekend! How was yours?

I wanted to post last night, but I was just too wiped out. We made an unexpected trip to Houston yesterday.

It was an emotional roller coaster we were on yesterday. My dad was suddenly much worse, so we dropped everything to go to Houston, even forgetting to call the friend whom we had arranged would keep the kids if we had to suddenly leave.

You know, we should have sent the Impossible Son in to see him the moment we got there. Because Dad was semi-conscious and barely lucid. I got him to open his eyes and to look at me when I came in, talking to him and stroking his face. He answered me, though it was an effort. He's got pneumonia again, and I know how that feels. About forty-five minutes or maybe an hour after we arrived, my mom finally sent the Impertinent Daughter and the Impossible Son in to see him. He opened his eyes for Miss Priss, responded to her when she told him she loved him. But... when Mr. Impossible came up and piped, "Hi Grand-Daddy! I love you. I wish you were awake so I could talk to you. Okay, bye," and he skipped out of the room.

It was like someone had flipped a switch. Dad's eyes popped open, and moved, looking around. He looked surprised and mumbled exhaustedly, "Was that the Impossible Son?"

"Yes," said my mother, looking greatly surprised and with tears in her eyes. "Do you want to see him?"

"Yeah," he said, and tried to turn on his side.

So, we called the Impossible Son in, and my dad saw him and reached for his hand, and they stood there and chatted for a bit. Well, the Impossible Son chattered, and Dad just smiled, nodded, occasionally trying to answer him though it was clear it was a huge effort. But he was making it, for Mr. Manzie. Then my very sneaky son said, "I was eating some of your Push-Pops, Grand-Daddy. If you don't eat one, I might not leave you any."

"You can have all the grape ones, " my dad said with a grimace. "Don't like 'em."

"No," said my son, "I'll eat the orange ones."

"You will not... those're... mine," my dad said, getting a little color in his cheeks.

Nothing like arguing with a seven year old over frozen treats to give someone the will to live, I guess.

Dad had his orange treat, and he and my son discussed the little cars Mr. Manzie had brought along. My son didn't stay in there long. He'd leave for a while, then come back with something else to show Grand-Daddy, or a question to ask, and it kept Dad animated for a while.

I'm glad Dad was able to pull out of it for a bit, but you know, he's getting so... well, he's too weak to get out of bed now. He spends most of his time sleeping, or staring out the windows, looking into the backyard he loves so much. He won't watch TV or listen to music. He hears other music now that we can't hear. When everyone bustled off to grab towels, or to check on the kids, or to get more water, etc, and we were alone, he'd look at me and smile, squeezing my hand as best he could, but sometimes, his eyes would go distant, and I knew he wasn't really with me anymore, and that's... well, that's just part of the journey he's on. He's letting go. He's not really here with us so much as he just comes back for brief visits. Like he did yesterday with my son.

He actually livened up enough to play with the Impossible Son. The Husbandly One blew up a couple of rubber gloves and tied knots in the end, and Mr. Impossible would bat one to Grand-Daddy, who would catch it as best he could, or would wait until his grandson handed it to him, and then he'd snap it back to Mr. Impossible with his fingers. I had to leave the room, because I knew it would exhaust him, but the sheer enjoyment in his eyes, and how happy my son was to be playing with him... I know he's going to remember it for the rest of his life. So, I had to leave the room to resist the urge to put a stop to it, to tell Daddy to save his strength. Because I realized... what would he be saving it for, if not for moments like these?

When we left, and I leaned over to kiss his forehead, I said, "You know, a simple, 'would you come visit, I miss you,' would have sufficed. You didn't have to scare Mom and the girls half to death to get me here. We were coming next weekend, you know."

He smiled. "Practice run." He was already sleepy.

I felt suddenly very scared, and very five years old. "Don't go anywhere just yet, " I said lightly.

"I can't even get to the bathroom," he said, then smiled to show he understood what I was really saying. "I'll try, but... they're waiting for me, you know," and he didn't have to say who. Because I knew.

So I just kissed the top of his head again, listened to my daughter tell him a joke, "Why did the chicken cross the road? EEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRK->BANG<... we may never know," which made him snort and laugh weakly, and then he waved, his eyes already drifting closed... and we left.

So, I'm exhausted. I'm worn. I'm frazzled. And I feel like I'm in suspension, sometimes. This will happen in its own time, I know that. I am reassured, too, that he isn't in a great deal of pain, and that for the most part, he's comfortable. In the meantime, though, it's like having my emotions wrung out on a regular basis, and the stress is getting to me. And my stress is getting to my husband and my children.

I think... I think I will go work in the garden. Maybe getting my hands dirty will help me restore my sense of balance. Because, I feel so very out of kilter, lately.