Party of Five

JP is now (mostly) moved into his apartment at school. There were a couple of things that couldn't fit into his truck (that had he let Jason or I help him move wouldn't be sitting in the middle of his room here), but other than the mess he left behind, he is no longer a full time resident of this house.

sigh

Only five dishes were placed on the table last night for dinner.

double sigh

While I was wrapping my brain around all this, evidently the wheels were also turning in Cameron's pea brain. As Jason & I were lying in bed last night, we heard crashes and scuffling above our head.

I started laughing because I knew that Cameron was trying to make the bed so he could sleep in JP's now (mostly) empty room. Cameron has been waiting for this day for years. As much as he will miss his brother, he has been drooling with anticipation over having his own room.

I've tried to explain that JP will return for weekends, Christmas Break and summers. Cameron's reply? "He can sleep on the couch." We'll see how that goes over with son #1.

After JP left yesterday, I went into his room. I was going to throw a pity party for one, but after looking at the carnage left behind from his packing, all I could do was take a picture, and start making a mental list of things to tell him about housekeeping.

So, here's the list so far:

1. You have a hamper. Use it.
2. Don't leave wet stuff on the floor.
3. Change your sheets. Weekly would be awesome.
4. That stick with the bristles on the bottom is a broom. It is useful for cleaning up messes.
5. If something spills, wipe it up right away.
6. Clean the bathroom. Weekly would be super awesome. (also, see #5)
7. Science experiments can grow in the refrigerator (again, see #5)
8. Doors have locks. Use them.
9. Locks on doors need keys. Don't lose them.
10. Call/text/Facebook your parents even when you don't need anything
11. Eat a vegetable once in a while. French fries with ketchup do not count.
12. There is no laundry fairy at college. Don't overload the washer, and use cold water to wash your stuff. I know you won't separate lights from darks, and you don't want a pink wardrobe.
13. Check your snail mail. You never know what might be in there.
14. Saying "thank you" for snail mail pretty much ensures you will continue to get it.
15. Visits home ensure care packages being sent back with you.

My Uterus is not a homing device...or my almost adventure as a Charlie's Angel

As a mom and wife, I am expected to know where EVERY possession of every member of the household can be found. Usually, I am pretty good at it. My standard responses to the wail, "where is my xyz?!?!" (in no particular order) are:

1. in your bedroom
2. on your floor
3. in the washer
4. in the dryer
5. in the car
6. Honestly, the last time *I* wore/used/stumbled over it in the middle of the floor your xyz. I put it back. How am *I* supposed to know where *YOUR* stuff is?!?!?!?

Electronics in this house have been the bane of my existence. No, I haven't seen your iPod/cell phone/ear buds/iPod charger/Game Boy/XBox Controller/Double A batteries anywhere!

Last month, I was playing Bunco with the girls when my cell phone rang. The number on caller id popped up as Son #2's phone, so I answered it. It was NOT Son #2 on the other end. The phone had fallen out of his pocket at the Carnival, and it had been found by a stranger who scrolled through the contacts until he got to "Mom." (Let me point out that "DAD" comes before Mom alphabetically speaking, but I was the one who got the call.)

Having never experienced something like this before, I agreed to meet said stranger under the Ferris Wheel. After I hung up, it occurred to me that said stranger could in fact be a homicidal mass axe murderer.

Well, shoot.

I had to get the cell phone back. So, I called Jason, who was at the Carnival with Paige watching the fireworks. He didn't hear his phone. By the time that he did, he was stuck in traffic leaving the fireworks.

So, I had no choice but to go to the Ferris Wheel...and hopefully not get murdered.

Meanwhile, the Bunco Babes are listening to/watching all this transpire. Two Bunco Babes offer to ride with me up to the Carnival to keep me safe. Well, seeing as how I am the biggest chicken this side of the Mississippi, I took them up on their offer. There is strength in numbers, even if one of your sidekicks barely comes up to your chin.

We pull up to the Carnival, park the car, and my phone rings. Son #2's number pops up on caller id again. I answer, and it is actually Son #2. Seems that he finally realized he had no phone. He met up with a Scout Mom who called his phone, and they met the stranger (who obviously was no homicidal axe wielding maniac) and got the phone back.

So much for the three of us getting to be Charlie's Angels.

Maybe next year, though....

I don't want to start any blasphemous rumors...

....but I think that God's got a sick sense of humor. (Depeche Mode)

I've said it before, and I'll say it again. There was some sort of cosmic rift, and I was given my sister's child.

Paige looks like my sister, acts like my sister, and seems to be eerily shadowing my sister's actions as a child. I've lived through this once already; I am getting much too old to live through it again.

Flashback a couple decades ago: Heather got in trouble, and she got sent to her room. (While this was not an uncommon occurrence in our household, something was different this night.) She was in her room having a meltdown of biblical proportions when IT happened. For whatever reason, she threw herself on her bed and kicked her bedroom window. Hard.

I honestly don't exactly know what happened next, but I do know there was a lot of yelling involved.

Fast forward to yesterday: Paige was playing (quite nicely) in her room with her cousins. All of a sudden, I heard a crash, and a lot of yelling.

It seems the kids were playing catch with stuffed animals, and Paige decided to throw a flip-flop instead. She hit the window. There was much yelling (on my part) and much crying (on her part).

So now there's a hole in her window. Believe it or not, it's beyond Jason's Mr. Fix-It capabilities. I called a repairman, and he's already been out to assess the damage.

It's fixable.

No-one got cut to ribbons.

It could have been worse.

At least Paige didn't do it on purpose.

The Circle Game

Anyone remember this Joni Mitchell song?

Yesterday, a child came out to wander
Caught a dragonfly inside a jar
Fearful when the sky was full of thunder
And tearful at the falling of a star

And the seasons they go 'round and 'round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game

Then, the child moved ten times 'round the seasons
Skated over ten clear frozen streams
Words like, "When you're older", must appease him
And promises of someday make his dreams

Sixteen springs and sixteen summers gone now
Cartwheels turn to car wheels through the town
And they tell him, "Take your time. It won't be long now.
'Til you drag your feet to slow the circles down"

And the seasons they go 'round and 'round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game

So the years spin by and now the boy is twenty
Though his dreams have lost some grandeur coming true
There'll be new dreams, maybe better dreams and plenty
Before the last revolving year is through.

And the seasons they go 'round and 'round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return, we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and 'round and 'round
In the circle game
And go 'round and 'round and 'round in the circle game.

********************************

My birthday was this past Tuesday. I am now 43. I am the same age my mother was when I got married. Next year, I will be the same age as my mother when she became a grandmother.

To say I am a little freaked out is an understatement.

To top it off, this is the last week that all my wild indians will be living under my roof full time. JP has (wisely) decided to no longer be a commuter student and to live at college.

No longer will I be serenaded to sleep by him playing guitar and singing.

I won't hear him thumping down the stairs at the butt crack of dawn when he is dangerously close to being late for his 6 am shift at work.

There will be no more texts requesting "spaghetti for dinner?."

When I walk into the kitchen, I won't see any overflowing hamper sitting in front of the washer.

And yet, he is the same age Jason was when Jason returned from Boot Camp.

He is close to Jason's age when we met.

This year, he could very well meet the girl that he will marry.

The girl who (many, many, MANY) years from now will make me a grandmother.

....and we'll go 'round and 'round and 'round in the circle game.....