The last time I posted, was a Thursday. To anyone who read that generally dull, whiny bit, it was clear. I was in a lousy mood. I felt as though I had no answers. The next piece of redundant literature generated by a process involving two of the world's largest bureaucracies was late (run-on and on sentence-- Stroud Holt is broken out in a rash somewhere and doctors are baffled). Sick of rich people telling me how they wait for the Lord to meet their needs and then show what the postman delivered from Zapp0$, today (not that Jesus would not totally shop there if He were shopping for something nice for His mom today).
A couple of other things had been going on that week... One, the Divas, with split second timing on any developmental timeline, were complaining that I never do anything around the house. And that I am on the computer all the time. Two, Mickey had been the one to take the girls to the 'youth group' on a Wednesday night and had dropped in to the adult prayer and Bible study time. Three, our 19th wedding anniversary was Tuesday, and we didn't do anything AT ALL by mutual consent, since the budget is "skewed" (skewered or screwed...you pick it all says the same thing). And waiting would permit us to a) eat a nice dinner at "our place" b) see a movie c) he would not have to get up early the next day for work. Four, I had been stewing over the beginning of school and what the whatever I was going to do, because last year I emerged from jet lag about mid-August, stumbled into an ill-prepared year with people writhing under the torture of puberty with curriculum suited for someone, but not us.* Night. Mare.So that brought us up to Thursday...
(insert sound of record scratching here)
Thursday night, we played cards with our friends, the Wilson's. We hadn't gotten together in awhile and spent most of the night catching up. We happened on the subject of schooling and told me she had her
Friday morning, I didn't turn the computer on. I worked. WE worked. Hard. Cleaning rooms and doing laundry and getting rid of stuff we don't need upstairs so that
Monday of the next week, we hit the upstairs again. I suggested that we needed to move M's dresser into the room with E. This had been the subject of much grumbling and complaining over the last several months. You know we struggle, as people who were expected to be seen and not heard at home, to give respect to our children's legitimate needs while still retaining the authority of our office as parents (because, I am sure no one else has children who do this, but our girls are just waiting for an opportunity to "force a turnover". Defense wins ball games. We got none.) At any rate, I was expecting fireworks. There were none. The change was received with much jubilation.
*sorry Mr Holt.