It wasn't serious, she probably stepped on ice or a stick or something. Char and I wrapped it up, and taped three socks on her, then put the cone of shame on so she couldn't bite the socks off. She looked pathetically sad, but then, so was I, what a mess. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't pouring blood...just a bit, enough.
We took off all the bandages a few hours later no more bleeding.
Trouble? Us?
Lydia has been here every day, and she spends the night on Thursday. She keeps me company. Yesterday we painted a wooden box so she can wrap it and give it to her mama. We played playdough last night. She is a color mixer. I saw her huge flat four-colors-smushed-together creation, and she covered it with both hands and said, "Don't look at it, Gramma." So I told her it's okay to mix the colors. Char and Cam don't like it, but hey, they don't really play with it anymore anyway.
I made her the snowman, he ended up smushed into her creation.
Little kids do bring life into the house.
Cats...why oh why do I love them and hate them at the same time? Orange Guy: In and out all day, and he meows so loud. He sauntered toward the door as Suri and Sunny came back in this morning, but then stopped and hesitated, as if it's only fun if all the cold air comes in while he decides. Sometimes my foot gives him a gentle nudge in the right direction. The old mama cat is a touchy old girl, she likes to hiss at her now grown son, and I trust her not at all with small children. She doesn't attack, but she does defend. And she perceives a cute pudgy hand headed in to pet her as a threat, so...she claws.
Anyway. Today, Kathryn's fiance is arriving from Oregon, to stay with Margaret and Adrian for a few days and visit Kathryn, and us. You would think I'd be cleaning the house, but nah, I'll just sit here until the last possible minute, then go nuts.
Yesterday afternoon, Paul and I went to calling hours for our neighbor. It's very sad, he was my age, died of bone cancer. He owned the collision shop up on the main road, and he did beautiful work on our minivan, helped us out with the doors on our big van way back when, and was overall a really good neighbor. He called me every single year at the start of rifle hunting season to remind me to keep my kids out of the woods. Paul didn't hunt back then, while the kids were growing up, so I wasn't aware of when it started, so it was a very welcome call. He called me about a week before he died and asked very nicely if Jonny could stay off the four-wheeler for a while, so as not to scare the deer away...he said he was at the end of his life, and calling in his favors. I toldhim I've been praying for him, and hoped he got a huge buck.
I'm not sure if he did or not, but I did hear some gunshots from that direction, and hoped he didn't miss.
Life is short, and sometimes very sad.
It's niggling at me that I should be up and cleaning this house. It's getting old, cleaning all the time, but with the comings and goings around here, it gets messy, the floors need daily sweeping and mopping. I mean, I did it YESTERDAY! We have the dogs sit down when they come in the door, and wipe their paws...which was a real hulabaloo yesterday when we saw the blood on Sunny, and she sensed our freaking out and ran all around like crazy. Anyway. We try, some of us more than others, and most of it falls on me, but when I think about complaining about it, I have this vision in my head of...me, old, parked in a wheelchair, wishing I could whisk around the house with a broom in one hand and a washcloth in the other.
Did you know that I have a lot of trouble staying on task? Oh yes, I do. I stand there washing up the dishes, then decide to check the living room for stray mugs, and maybe find a plate with orange peels on it, I scrape that, and decide to wash the garbage can top...then, wow, there's coffee on the floor, but I better sweep first! Oh, here's a sock, I'll just put that in...oh dear, the washer has wet clothes in it, I'll put them in the dryer, oh no, who left stuff in the dryer? Okay, I'll fold it quick, so I can put this stuff in the dryer, and then Lydia needs to show me how she fixed her dolls hair, and someone texts me, and the dogs are barking outside, and the water is still running, and oh goodness, was I washing dishes?
This has gotten much better since I am no longer up to my elbows in small children and nursing infants, but it's still my normal. Go ahead, ask me where something is, and the whole train derails.
It's partly why I sit here procrastinating, because I know when I get up and start cleaning, I'll be going in circles and won't be able to get it all done, there's so much to do.
I also need to make a meal plan for the weekend. We stopped in Aldi last night for butter, half and half, and a few other things, but what will I make for dinner tonight? Last night's dinner was marinated boneless chicken thighs, browned in olive oil, rice, and green beans.
I have to make lists...
Yesterday I did accomplish some good things, staying home all day. We gathered and wrapped/tagged the gifts for our friends at church, like nineteen gifts. I still need a few more, but it's nice to have that mostly done. I also decided on a good gift for one of my girls, and need like several days to go out and about and wander through the stores, but they're zoos from here on out, so blah. Online shopping, I guess.
I was thinking of doing something fun with the kids today, but I don't know. It's snowing and snowing here, not accumulating tons, but covering the muddy yard and brightening up the house. The flurries blowing in the breeze ARE beautiful, and it seems just so Christmas-y!
I had a really really bad dream last night. I dreamed that Adolph Hitler himself came to our house. He was touchy and easily irritated and extremely powerful, with no tolerance for mess or disorganization. Ben whispered to me that if anyone, adult or child, annoyed him, he sent them directly to a gas chamber. This was not a good place for someone easily annoyed, our crazy house. I spent the whole dream trying to get the kids to be neat and polite and quiet. I sneaked around hiding piles of clutter, and sheparding clusters of children to seek less offending activies, glaring at teenagers who slouched, slurped, or carelessly dropped their dirty socks on the floor. It seems funny now, but it was HORRIBLE. Then one of the kids came to me with some of this terrible man's important papers, which a small child had crumpled up. We were doomed. Then I woke up.
It made no sense. But when he strode through our house, looking and inspecting, and my family just wouldn't snap to it, I was terrified. It felt real. It reminded me of being little...my dad had a temper, he didn't hit us, but sometimes he yelled and I hated it. So I walked on pins, needles, and eggshells around my dad. My younger brother didn't get that memo, and would shriek, protest loudly, or have a fit if he felt like it, and my dad just hated it. I tried so hard to project it to my brother that he needed to be good, but he didn't even care.
Anyway...it was only a dream, and I'm awake now, and I can see how it reflects real life...ha. Off I go to clean this house...and play with Lydia:)
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