Some love for his Ma.....

Any of you that read this blog with any regularity know I've got it bad for my kids.

They are, frankly, the best kids ever.

(don't noooo-body be actin a hater and say to themselves (or to me via private message) " her (your) kids ain't kids" or some other such nonsense..yer kids are yer kids are yer kids..matters not if they wear dentures and have gray hair or get a senior citizen discount...they still be yer kids...so shove a donut in yer pie hole and move on)

(I apologize for the above statement, it's early and I'm obviously crabby)

Allow me to get sidetracked here for a moment...

I took a little tumble down a few flights of stairs steps the other morning, I guess it was more of a slip-n-slide rather than a tumble.

When Bear didn't wake up (not to find me in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs, mind you...NO, neither he or (that hard sleepin) Daddio of his heard the earth move nor felt the house shake...)

Whatever.....

Serves me right, if you're gonna fall down the stairs you should do it when people are awake, can witness, or at least her your cries of "Double-U-Tee-Eff", and appropriately feel really sorry for you.

So, as I lay alone on the floor, soaking wet (not only from pissin my drawers, as luck would have it I happen to be carrying a cup of water, which ended up dripping down my back, and running into my eyes. It soaked the front of my nightgown, from the top to the bottom, it also made a mess of the floor and wet the small rug that was near enough to catch some of the water)

(How the hell an inch of water could wreck such havoc and make such a mess, I'll never know)

So as I lay on the floor, soaking wet...and feeling incredibly sorry for myself, I did a quick inventory of my nearly 43 (my blog, my addition) year old bones.. they all felt in one piece, except for my tailbone.

Which ached like the dickens.

My trusty pooch noticed me laying there...she came, sniffed the situation, slurped up a bit of the water on the floor near my hand and waited (not so) patiently for me to notice that she was doing her pee-pee dance.

Once up I hobbled to the bathroom mirror, hiked up my nightgown, and surveyed the damage.

There didn't appear to be any.

(I'll have to see what Google has to say about invisible bruises)

No outward signs of damage... hmmm.

Well, I have then no explanation as to why I'm hurting so.

Anyway, back to my kids, my wonderful children.

Last night I sent Bear to the market to fetch some coffee filters.

I set up the coffeepot, placed a cup of fresh grounds nearby, added the proper amount of water, hit the "Delay" button so I'd wake up to the aroma of a fresh pot of Folgers.

I asked Bear to add the filter, then the grounds.

This morning I woke just the way I imagined..

I walked (very carefully) down the (steep, slippery sonofabeep) stairs.

Bear had followed all instructions and my pot of coffee was ready and waiting for me.

He'd also written me a lovely "coffee pot" note...

One of my favorite things ever..

A note from my treasured youngest son.

I could hardly contain myself as I limped (remember the big fall, right) to the light to better read the coffee pot "love note"....

"Good Morning" it said simply...

(Hey Y-O-U negative nellie naysayers you, you all know the rules here, right?... My blog, My take on shit).....

Gas money to you all....make it a great day!!!

Labor pains....

Soon, I'll be reinventing myself.

Like so many other times during life, big changes are a comin...

My feelings go back and forth when I see four pairs of shoes resting on my entryway floor.

Arrghhhh...can't they put their shit away...?

oh dear...this time next year there will be no clutter left there.

Okay, so who in the hell wants to trip over four pairs of shoes anyway?

Next year, the answer will be "me"...I'm sure.

When Bear was a wee boy he was so connected to his wonderful, loyal best friend (that would be ME..tee-hee) that going to school and being away from his bff was tantamount to chewing aluminum foil with a mouth full of fillings (you said "ouch" didn't you?)...

Bear was in some serious pain during our early years of separation.

The scenes played out in our home daily, the crying, the pleading, the "I can't leave you momma, I'll miss you too bad it's too many hours at school, too many hours away from you" just about killed us both..(but on a level or two I secretively loved it).

I used to joke that Bear was the perfect "last child", the perfect birth control... and that when I was finally able to pry him off from around my neck (where daily his little arms would lock when I'd try to deposit him in his classroom) ...that I wouldn't be doing that again.

Nope, no more kids for me.

Bear and I used to read the story The kissing hand... in the story the mother would kiss the hand of her baby and leave a mark...the mark would help the baby to know that his mama was with him whereever he went..(don't quote me..it's been a while)..

Often I'd lube up my smackers and plant one on his tiny hand...

When that tactic stopped working I thought up a new one,

and another new one,

and another new one,

and another new one....

One of the last things I did to help Bear navigate this big scary world without me was to spritz some of my perfume on a little stuffed animal that he would carry in his pocket...

When he needed a best friend "fix" he'd pull the small bat out and take a whiff...

And I'd be there right next to him.

"Batty" has a home in Bear's underwear and sock drawer.

He's buried deep and long forgotten, I'm sure.

The other day I asked Bear if he knew where Batty was....

"Why ma" he asked "you gonna squirt him up with some perfume and send him off to college with me?"

No Bear actually, I was hoping you would spritz him up with some of your cologne and gently tuck him in my pocket.

I'm really gonna miss tripping over four pairs of shoes in my entryway.