Random thoughts from my very cluttered brain right now, about to spew forth. Also, numbered, though in no particular order.
Thought number 1. My husband is remarkably talented at the art of compartmentalizing. By that, I mean, when something gets under his skin, he lets it . . . then he has this amazing talent for kind of putting it in a box, shoving that box up high on a closet shelf and carrying on. The other areas of his life barely seem impacted at all. He carries on with game face on. In fact, he seems to feel better once the shoe boxes are packed full and aligned on closet shelves in the back of his mind. I'm not so good at this. Actually, I'm down-right bad at this. Let me put it to you this way. If holiday stress is apples and my dad is a banana; if the kids are oranges and my period is a kiwi; if Christmas is a jar of maraschino cherries and maintaining the house is strawberries . . . . I'm a fruit salad. I don't keep my apples apart from my oranges. I don't compartmentalize things in my life and put them up, up and away. Anyway, I don't do it well. Stuff mixes up in my world. I'm a fruit salad. Stuff seeps over and gets mixed so that when one thing is bothering me, everything is bothering me. I need to either work on that or learn to let it work with me.
Thought number 2. A wildly successful Christmas. I hit a home-run on all gift fronts. Santa did, too, but I managed to put a smile on every kid's face with something thoughtful and well planned. And I feel successful on that front. Spooner boards rock. Mimi is quite good at it. I was contemplating how many years have gone by . . . how many Christmas days when some child is riding something through the house. I can remember "rock-a-piller", bikes, scooters, pogo sticks, ripstix and now spooner boards. The carpets are still pulled back. Ride-on toys rock. And to answer my question, the rock-a-piller Christmas was when Big was 2, so I guess that's a decade of things to swerve, ram, ride & otherwise chip paint & bump moldings. But, oh, the joy . . . .
Thought number 3. My dad. As you may well suspect, he's weighing heavily on my mind right now. Post surgery day one was pretty good. I think I blogged it. Today . . . not so good. He looks better from a hemodynamic standpoint, but he has received three units of blood & a unit of plasma/platelets. He should look better. There are just a whole host of hurdles in the future. He's distended again today . . . . very large & uncomfortable. His blood pressure is up. He's got a deep, hacking cough. Still, I'm in awe of the tenderness he has shown the last several visits/months/weeks. Even when I did my BEST things as a kid and knew that I made him the most proud, he would throw a rough arm around my shoulder, deliver a half-ass, side body squeeze with a "good job, Blue Light Special". (Yes, he did have most of the town convinced that they got me at a Blue Light Special. Oh gee, did I just date myself? Does anyone even remember K-Mart? Does anyone even know what a Blue Light Special IS?!?) He wasn't a full on body hugger. He didn't go on and on and spout his pride or vent his emotion. So, considering the non-emotional man I knew growing up, he's become a bit softer. He's a hand-holder now and I find that very endearing. His hands are warm like little ovens and as soft as a baby's back-side.
Thought number 4. My house makes me *&^% nutty right after Christmas. I'm anally organized and the trash, packaging, snacks, goodies, wrappers, leftovers make me stark raving MAD. It's only 24 hours after Toys-R-Us exploded in our front room and I'm ready to drive a skid-loader through and empty this place out. If Christmas were in the summer, I'd have one hell of a garage sale before AND after.
Thought number 5. Why are there not toy drive or donation boxes after Christmas? Is seems so logical to me.
Thought number 6 has just occurred to me now. I'm starving. I'm taking a break to find nourishment.
Thought number 7. Norad tracking Santa has changed they way we spend Christmas Eve. Also, Dear Norad-Tracks-Santa. Please slow down. If Google Earth shows that Santa has been here, but we are still a full hour short of a completely assembled foosball table, there's double trouble in walla-walla. MOTH and I set a new record. We were up until 1:30. But, damn, I really like that foosball table. On a side note, my kids sleepwalk. And they don't remember a damn thing. Little caught me red-handed with my hand stuffing stockings, smiled at me and said, "hey, mom", but the next morning, he had NO recollection. Middle walked out and snagged us screwing legs onto the foosball table, but the next morning, couldn't even remember that she had been up to pee.
Thought number 8. Pictures coming.
Thought number 9. Goals, ambitions and such for the new year. Are you thinking about it yet?
Thought number 10. With stomach growling, refer to thought number 6.