Baby Boy has given me a nervous twitch following me around shooting his cap-gun when I least expect it. Now I expect it all the time, and yet somehow it still makes me jump. I never did like the guns used to start the races at track and field day when I was a kid, either. No matter how ready I was, no matter how expectant, it still startled the crap out of me and either paralyzed me for a few precious seconds, or made me jump and trip over myself on the first step. Either way I never won, not once. And I was thrilled to leave grade school behind, to know I never had to participate in another track and field day ever again! Then along comes Little Man with his cap gun, and after two days of this I find that I'm now looking down periodically to make sure my shoes are tied, and wondering on occasion where the heck my potato-sack went. It is no wonder I have grey hair and anxiety.
One of our three dogs has decided to train himself up as a hunting dog. He has hunted the new rabbits B got for his 4H fair project. He has hunted the chickens. He hunted who-knows-what up out of the ground yesterday...and slurped it down as I yelled for him to get inside. I shut the door and walked away. There are some things a gal should never ever see. Having seen such things, I cannot view him the same way anymore. He is no longer a handsome and snugly half-bear. He is now some kind of wild foul-mouthed other-animal eater. I'm not quite sure what to do with him, but I am positive there is not enough soap in the house when he licks my hand now.
The chickens that manage to evade the great hunter have taken up residence on the front porch. They will not go into their coop anymore, they just wander the yard, occasionally flap for their lives when it's Maxx's potty time, and roost on the front porch. While I'm pretty impressed with what an unexpectedly menacing site they make sitting there, I could do without the mess. If you've ever been around chickens, no further explanation is needed.
I am finally starting to feel better, and Ryan is coming down with something. If you've ever been around a sick husband, no further explanation is needed.
It's almost Easter, and almost our 1 year cancerversary, and I am growing increasingly all befuddled inside about this. Happy to say it's been a year and we're still swinging away and winning!!! Sad to realize it's been a year... and we've not managed to do anything beyond make it through. All my plans and ideas and this intense need to wring every atom of life out of every single moment we're given----all for naught. We've done nothing. I've done nothing to change our life into one of really truly living. We were handed the gift of an entire year of life after cancer got all up in our faces, and I was going to make the most of it. Every day I was going to make the most of it... will I look back a year from now and wish I hadn't let this year slip away? Ryan swears he's incapable of "living" the way I envision. I swear I'm losing my candyland-vision sitting beside him on this couch day in and day out. The kids are portable and pliable, so really whichever path we take, they take too. I feel responsible for making life bigger and better and more, for all of us, but I have yet to figure out how to do that.
I think for now, I will just devote myself this weekend to Spring Cleaning the house. And getting caught up on everything for work next week. And planning the 3 youngests' Birthday Party. Maybe just getting life organized, so nothing is hanging over my head, could provide a good vantage point from which to see how to start this whole "living" thing, yes?
No comments:
Post a Comment