With no internet connection available to me, I am forced to type in an Open office document. If I decide to post any of this later, I’ll have to retype it all. I’ve long since learned that to copy and paste from here to blogger is not worth the effort. (turns out the switch from open office to blogger is no problem. It was word that gave me the trouble. Yet another reason to disprove of Microsoft)
After two an a half weeks away from home my children are dangling from the ends of their proverbial ropes, which leaves me a bit closer to the end of my rope than I care to be.
Yesterday, Zizza’s begging and my own belayed promises led us to the pool. A brother of mine had been recruited to come along and help with keeping all three of the small ones afloat. Going on my own would not be feasible. Unfortunately, for our little swimming party, the brother was called in to work at the last minute. I couldn’t call off the swim. I’d never survive the screaming. I’d only just made it through the day of “Is it time yet”s and “Can we go now”s. We’d finally made it, suited and sunscreened into the car and on our way when we got the news of the Uncle’s unavailability to swim with us. There really wasn’t any other choice but to go ahead on our own and stick to the kiddie pool with it’s 2 foot maximum depth.
The swimming went amazingly well. Enzo accidentally dunked himself a few times, but was always convinced by my cheering and high fives that this was a good thing. The New one wriggled squirmed and splashed with delight just as I expected she would based on her love of the bath. Zizza jumped, dipped and showed off in general all the while lamenting the absence of her uncle which made it impossible for her to go and really swim in the big pool like she wanted to do. “I’m gonna swim under the water three times, Mama!” she’d told me in preparation for the outing.
All that jumping, and trying to run in the water on the rough pool bottom took it’s toll on Zizza’s little toes and after a while the big one on her left foot began to bleed. “It’s ok, Mama, it doesn’t even hurt. I can still swim” She told me. She left bloody toe prints along the deck as we made our way to a chair where the blood continued to flow steadily until I was convinced we’d have to leave. It was not a popular decision.
After wresting the two disappointed swimmers into their car seats, (The New one didn’t mind leaving, even in spite of how much she’d been enjoying herself in the water.) there was nothing for me to do but turn up the music and block out the disappointed screams as I drove back to my parent’s house.
After a while things quieted down enough for me to think about something besides not thinking about the wails erupting behind me. I called my mother to discuss dinner plans. It was Dad though, who answered her cellaphone. I was so surprised to hear him answer that line, I almost didn’t recognize his voice. I was more surprised still when he told why he’d done it.
Marmie had fallen and hurt her hip. Even then, as we spoke paramedics were helping her to try and get up. There’s nothing like hip breakage to make a few grumpy children seem like sugared pansies in the arena of trial.
I pulled in to “Rancheritos” and procured an order of super nachos. Obviously, Marmie wouldn’t have dinner waiting.
We got home just as the ambulance pulled out. Dad said he thought he’d gotten the perishables put away, Marmie had been on her way in with groceries when she fell, and he was off to meet her at the hospital. I made a quick search of the bags and found three gallons of milk, four quarts of yogurt and a block of cheese. The over-site of which I find perfectly excusable, if still a mite amusing. I put away the overlooked dairy products. I fed my children their greasy dinner. I had a message from my marmie, she’d called from the ambulance “I was worried about you, you’re probably worried about me, but I thought I’d make sure you’re ok.” I called her back, Then I glutted myself on the Nachos while I rushed about calling and texting siblings, changing swim diapers for the regular variety and trying to make my dog pee out side. That was a lost cause he was in a right state of panic after witnessing the commotion of the paramedics from the confines of his kennel.
An hour later, still in my swim suit I loaded the kids back into the car to fetch their uncle from his class. Marmie’s taxi service was shut down along with her kitchen. I was glad to find my pants waiting for me in the car where I’d shoved them in our screaming escape from the pool. It’s the little things, y’know? Putting those pants on really helped me dial back the frantic pace I’d fallen into.
There was talk of hip replacement. That was voted down and now Marmie’s got two pins in her hip, five or so days hospital stay to look forward to, and another six weeks recovery after that.
I’ve just finished cleaning out her refrigerator. I was brutal. There was no way any of us were going to eat any of those left overs with out her here to reheat them and serve them to us, so I counted them as pre- spoiled. They might not have been bad now, but it would only be a matter of time. There’s a stack of ironing to tackle, Ill have to wait on that until Dad comes home and can find me some hangers. What good would it do to iron any of it without a place to hang it when it’s done?
I’ll be gone by the time she comes home. I’m trying to think of things that will make it easier for her when she gets here.
I’ve got one really good idea. Here’s hoping I can pull it off.