We may be still be solidly rocking the 100 degree weather here in Phoenix, but an indoor orange pumpkin helps get me into the fall mindset. I think our dog, Haley, agrees.
The other day I was bemoaning the fact that I could not buy ice cream because our freezer was too full. (It felt more tragic in the moment than it sounds now that I am typing it, but whatever.)
I rummaged around looking for something to take out to make room for future ice cream when my hand landed upon a grocery store bag with unidentifiable wrapped lumps in it. Upon further examination, I determined them to be tamales that were gifted to us by my brother and sister-in-law last Christmas. Bingo! The perfect ice cream sized item and it made for an easy meal.
Fast forward to today. The tamales are defrosted and we are hungry for lunch. I make a quick salad while Husband heats the tamales in the air fryer. I pop some chips and salsa on the table and we have lunch.
Carter, who is now 17 (!!!), surveys the spread on the table and then gets up and looks in the fridge. He may be almost an adult, but his ability to find anything in the fridge has stagnated and has not yet caught up to his age.
“Mom, where is the chip sauce? You know the free cheese dip stuff we got for buying two bags of chips.”
He is referring to the last time he went shopping with me. We ended up buying several items I don’t normally buy, one of them being queso.
After some directional support, he finds the unopened jar in the pantry. He dishes up a couple small dishes to warm up in the microwave and brings them to the table.
Lunch is eaten. It is good yet uneventful. I eat my last bite and look down as our orange cat, James strolls on up and stops by my chair for some pets. I reach down to pet him and my hand stops short.
“Why does the cat have queso on his back?” I hear myself ask.
It’s as if I am not on summer break, but back in my third grade classroom where such abnormal questions are, well, normal.
The dog walks by. You know what I am thinking, but it doesn’t happen. She doesn’t even notice the cheesed cat. I use a napkin to wipe off the cat and then get a wet paper towel to ensure clean fur.
If you look closely see, you can see the wet back fur.
We are having a few friends over for a board game afternoon. After sorting through our game cabinet and pulling out games that can have eight or more players and does not take hours to learn how to play, these are the ones I’ve selected. I still need to narrow it down, of course, but it is a start. Any suggestions?
I also allowed myself to impulse purchase a variety of snacks at Trader Joe’s for the occasion. Trader Joe’s is a weakness of mine, so this was especially satisfying for me. Ahhh, simple pleasures.
May you have a lovely Sunday whatever you end up doing.
Somewhere between when shadow dancing at the school bus stop and telling tales of an imaginary mouse gave way to driving lessons and quadradic formulas, the content for which I started this blog shifted and left me staring at a blank screen.
I’ve lurched forward, teasing out the humorous from the mundane finding the edges of childhood sweetness and elaborating. I’m always seeking flavors that fit the palate of the writer I was when I started this blog. Therein lies the problem. I am not she and I do not reside there anymore. My landscape is not blotted out by the high mountain peaks of early motherhood.
And so even though I published a whopping four posts in 2023, up from the two posts in 2022, and am currently sitting at zero published posts in 2024, (that is until I hit that Publish button), I decided to renew my domain name and pretend I am doing this thing. But maybe I will do more than pretend and maybe I will give myself permission to not feel apologetic when I write dark, serious, non-kid related thoughts. What the hell was I even thinking?
I hear the boat groaning under the weight of it all, I see the mast bending in impossible ways, and I know that my sails have many holes. But I am still in the boat and my crew is solid. And if push comes to shove, I happen to know a couple swim strokes and how to tread water.
Here’s to blue skies, gentle winds, and a steady crew.
The holidays are a time rich with traditions. When these traditions start to feel like chores, I think it is time to rethink their purpose. One Christmas tradition that Husband and I have and continue to love is strolling through the Desert Botanical Gardens all dotted with luminaries.
Cody was five and Carter three when I started this blog. Now Husband and I find ourselves living with two man children, ages 17 and 15.
The memories they have of my dad are smudges, more stories retold than remembered. Their memories of Husband’s dad, are more recent but less numerous. Both their grandfathers had Alzheimer’s. And both boys know that. They may not remember what was robbed from us, but they know the impact, the pain, this disease has caused our family.
They are close to my mom. They have fond memories of family trips, shared experiences, and precious one on one time with her. She recently moved down to Arizona to be closer to us and perhaps the move should have happened sooner.
But here we are, with a diagnosis for almost a week and I haven’t told them. How do I tell them? How to I get across that the moment is most important even if the moment may quickly be forgotten? That we are building memories and she is loving being in the moment.
How do I talk through what may or may not happen? How do I help them through this pain? How do I keep them from withdrawing or even being scared or nervous around her?
Shoes On The Wrong Feet 