Dateline: Gravois Creek Chronicles

This past week brought the culmination of some month's preparation. On one side, I finished the very long "work blitz" that I had been preparing for since the beginning of the summer. It was hard, but I did like seeing the paycheck last week. That was nice. Another was the 25-year reunion of my classmates from grade school. This would ordinarily sound strange to the general public school person, but this grade school went from K-8, and though I went only for 5-8, it was those formative middle school years, which are generally quite memorable as the beginning of coming of age. (Read: developing friendships, personalities, and of course, bodies.) More on the reunion later--but suffice to say that it was fun and memorable as well. Following the reunion, was the school fair, which I had been planning for for about the last month. My personal role was small, but it was another "thing on the list." The final thing was my 40th birthday, which I hadn't been preparing for, but knew it was coming, nonetheless.
Turning 40, I've decided, is a lot like vanilla: You realize that after all this time, you kind of like it. And now that I'm here, it's kind of a big sigh of relief--I don't have to look at that as a milestone to dread, I've crossed it, and it's all good.
The best part of my 40th was the gifts: books and a bottle of wine from my sweetie, a book and card from the kids, and David, who brought tears to my eyes with this one:
David: I have a gift for you mom, it's here (pointing to his chest)
Me: Oh yea? What is that?
David: It's my heart.
Oh! How sweet--he really is a sweetheart, and I love him, and all my good boys a lot.

Now with the bad news: The day after my birthday, I read about another friend who may not see her birthday. But for her, it's simply the next step she must take. I wish I could be fearless like her, and I'm praying for her and her family.

How Do They Know?

How do they know it's time to act up
when I'm on the phone?
Why don't they know I cannot get up
when I'm on the "throne?"
How do they know it's time to go crazy
when we're trying to leave the house?
Why don't they know how I want them to act-
to be quiet as a mouse?


Why haven't they figured out
when it's time to behave?
Why haven't they figured out
it's peacefulness I crave?
How difficult can it really be
to "go put on your shoes?"
These "geniuses" have me all figured out--
it's my mind they're trying to lose.

This is definitely going to be more like a diary entry than anything. Do you ever get so frustrated about things, then have a total guilt trip, because deep down you know you really have no room to complain? I'm having more of those lately, and I'm not too pleased when I get this way.
Sometimes I get really down about money. I think about all the things we need to do, all the things we want to do, then how much these things cost, and then my brain explodes because I can't reconcile the balance. Big projects cost big money. I'd really like to add a screened porch to the back of my house; my husband wants to fix the fence; I'd be happy with paint and a new bed and bedding; he would like to get rid of our big gas guzzling car, but would be happy to just have the repairs done to both. I try not to get bogged down in the "big" cost picture, because sometimes it's so unattainable, why would I even waste the wish. But as I sat and folded ratty washcloths and noticed that there are even more pairs of little boy's socks with holes in the heels as big as golfballs, I got more and more depressed. Not that I can't buy socks or washcloths, but that those little things put our big goals further and further away. This doesn't even touch college or retirement--leave those be for now, my husband and I simply disagree on how that should even be handled.
Later in the day, as I watched "Emma" for the 100th time while folding clothes (not the Gwyneth Paltrow one, which is lovely, but the REAL one, the BBC produced), I was struck by the relationship of father and daughter, how Emma's father looked at his daughter and worried about her future, and how she comforted him with her "it'll be alright." I felt a sudden flashback to my wedding, followed by a flash forward to now: I'm frequently telling my dad "it'll be alright." And I really believe it. However, I am so frustrated now (going a different direction, so keep up with me, please) because here I watched Emma and her new husband go on their honeymoon, and it made me think about how next week is my 15-year anniversary, and we have absolutely no plans because 1)we really can't afford to go away for a long time or to anywhere truly fabulous, and really we can't even entertain the notion, because 2) we have nowhere to go with our children. We had an overnight alone in the spring, but it set us back $150 for the sitter. Prior to that, our last time away together was to the UK, 9 years ago, when my brother flew us over and put us up for a week--thanks again, Bob! I lovingly jest with my husband that we will someday have our time (remember, "it'll be alright"), but the fact is, I have no idea when, short of waiting until my sons are old enough to take care of themselves, but then we won't want to go, because by then they'd trash the house. It's starting to wear on me, especially when things are delicate in our relationship right now, and I sense it, he senses it, and we have no direction with it.
So I know all things are relative to those who experience it. In the big scheme of things, we have health, food on the table, a comfortable, yet well-worn home, and I live contentedly without fear. This is my brain messing with me. This is my frustration. Ah--I'll go have a glass of wine tonight, and it'll be alright tomorrow.

Oh poop.

One of the hazards of playing with the dog after dark is the kids yelling, "Oh no! I've got poop on me!" And, sure enough, he does. In fact, they all do. Dog doo up their arms from playing with the ball and the ball happened to roll through the "stuff" which then got on their arms. The dog, meanwhile, is skipping about the yard, very happy and having a great time. The boys were stripped down in the backyard (what with there being poop on their clothes, too), and sent to the showers. Makes for an exciting Friday evening.

We Really Appreciate Our Teachers!

Matthew is making a card for his teacher. It is Teacher Appreciation Day. After needing some help spelling the word "appreciation," he is set to create his masterpiece card. He even got to use the special scented markers! The final product: (oh how I wish I had taken a picture, because it is unbelievable otherwise)

(front cover)
Mrs G-thank you for your appreciation

(inside)
Smell this.
From Matt

Bookfair Fun!

This weekend is the Greater St. Louis Book Fair, benefitting St. Louis Crisis Nursery! Don't forget--bring your own bags and a few dollars to spend!
http://www.stlouisbookfair.org/

My son, the flippin' genius

Lately, I have been very down--no need to get into particulars. However, it takes a 6-year old to give perspective sometimes. We were playing frisbee in the backyard, and he says to me:
"Mom, don't you love today?"

"Yes, of course, but don't you want to know about tomorrow? Don't you think tomorrow will be good?"

"You don't know what's going to happen tomorrow. That's why I love today."