I Been Up…I Been Down
Weekends are a weird dichotomy in my home. They are the one time I sleep past 5:30 or 6:00 am. Yet I don’t get really past 8am because…essentially…they are catch-up days, too.
The last few weeks have seen an abundance of weekend events and things too, though. We had homecoming one weekend. Then I had a gig with a band – musicians I’m thrilled allow me to make some noise on the stage with them.
But then today saw me showing my exasperation with the three remaining miniature Manoucheris in my household. One had been sick with a cold, which he has since passed along to me. I started another change in eating habits because I’ve been told I’m eating too little and I won’t lose weight unless I balance my diet better. It’s true, I’m sure, but I feel more than a bit bloated from eating more than I normally do each day.
Then came today.
My daughter was in her usual position – asleep until nearly noon.
After twins arguing constantly . . . and the kitchen a complete mess . . . and several weeks of getting behind on cleaning the house I had reached nerves that had gotten more than a little raw. Add losing energy from a cold and it gets worse.
So when I had to load a plethora of dishes that one of the boys missed for the dishwasher while in the middle of prepping to vacuum I had my own temper tantrum.
“You know . . . I got up this morning, made you breakfast, mowed the lawn, did two loads of laundry and then cleaned up the front room,” I calmly asserted.
“I cannot do everything,” I informed them. “If I did I’d sleep sometime around 2032.”
It made a small dent.
When my daughter woke up I told her “good afternoon” and she rolled her eyes.
“You know, I’ve cleaned your clothes, at least some of them. You could take the rest upstairs.”
Then my son put his creativity in place and made one of the cutest Halloween decorations ever using recycled Kuerig K-cups. Ghost lights.
The pleasure was short-lived, though, when I went to wash sheets and the bottom sheet of one of their beds tore down the middle. They simply don’t make them like they used to I suppose. This created a hour-long search for old twin sheets until I can replace the custom space-themed sheets on his bed. Life of having a late wife who was part decorator, I guess.
Then came the 7:30pm hyperactivity, which seems to hit with every kid around the ages of 10-12. This is solved fairly simply with chores. Lots and lots of chores.
While making beds the sons begin to ask if I have any stories about their older sister or oldest sister and things they did that got them in trouble. After regaling them with one or two I look down and it dawns on me:
“You don’t need to start telling stories about their problems. You yourself tried to climb up your dresser only to have it fall on you. You were screaming your head off.”
That stopped the conversation dead in its tracks.
It was a long weekend of cleaning, decorating, and other issues that I never thought would come up. But in the end, as they went to bed, tired and satisfied . . . it ended, this weekend, on an up note as I turned on the ghosts and watched them twinkle in the house.