He asked me this week, or rather brought up to me that while he enjoyed the time and opportunity, he knew it wasn't easy always being the hostess, that I worked hard, and to please feel free to let him know if I just wasn't up to entertaining.
He's been an awesome part of Playdate. Now and again he brings dinner and along with Pap and their Opa and Uncle, I've appreciated Bean and Bugg having another male figure to chase, throw a ball and pass around some hugs and kisses in the Captain's absence. My house is a wild an crazy kinda of gig, while his is very neat. I never feel judged for being the Squatley's. He just moves the pile out of the way. He loves good food so he is ever an appreciative audience. Still, I pondered what he said for a minute.
I tried to respond honestly. I work really hard at teaching and by 3:30 I'm worn to a complete frazzle. If I went by 3:30 fatigue, I would never do a blamed thing in the evenings. However, I'm just not willing for that to be all that I am. I want these experiences with all of us. I want these little ones to get the value of family. I want these memories for them.
It has been interesting returning to the days of old, when getting kiddos fed, attended, homeworked, bathed, powdered, storied, prayed, bedded, up and at 'em, breakfasted, dressed, combed, etc., etc. was daily and habitual.
Now, I'm constantly thinking, thinking, thinking. Let's see,
is the milk still good (when did I buy that gallon of milk?)
Juice for Bugg, Bean's special tea (you don't usually have coffee for breakfast?)
do I have cereal they'll eat (not so crazy about high fiber stuff?)
Toothpaste ( that is a neat color, with stars and fruity flavored)
the pajamas clean
snack ( no, they don't really want an Atkins bar)
homework (thankfully I'm baptized in new math and reading, I know all about ten frames and connections)
panties with a princess, underwear that isn't babyish, jeans that fit ( what do you mean they don't zip?)
Shoes ( no open toes, well those aren't like really all that open and they match your dress, let's think about what's important)
Benedryl, Motrin and Honey ( for whatever ails you)
Recently, one of my student's parents were out of the country while the grands minded the children. I got a note from an obviously harried grandma, apologizing for something she forgot. I told her, "No worries, I get it."
This morning, at 7:20, ten minutes before we usually leave and twenty five minutes before being late, after the above mentioned activities, I had Missy Bugg dolled up in a beautiful green frock, matching socks and shoes and was getting ready to stick a bow in her hair, while Bean was finishing up. Big sigh, all systems go. He straightens his shorts and says, "Do I look fifties?"
"Do I look fifties, ummm, what does that even mean," I wonder, so I ask.
"What do you mean buddy?" "
I mean today is Fifties Day and we're supposed to dress like the fifties?"
"Today, Friday, are you sure?"
"Yeah, I'm sure."
So, I don't say, "No, no you look like 2012, like every other kid, so as not to stand out and have your self esteem destroyed by a grandmother who doesn't have any idea if it's okay to wear a Lego, Ninja something shirt, even though it's sold in your size at the Kohl's." " YOU LOOK NOTHING LIKE THE FIFTIES!"
Instead I yell, "Get all those clothes off!"
Then hither and yon I dash, upstairs and down, moving my chubb faster than you can imagine! After visiting the upstairs closet, attic room, downstairs closet and back porch, here they are
Yeah, so it's not great, but it shore nuff is fifties, and I got them there with five minutes to spare.
One day, we'll all laugh about it I'm sure.
So, yeah, I'm tired, but I'd be tired if I didn't do it. On we go!