You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have... *
My last two weeks.
We made a joke that my brother and my dad are riders of the Apocalypse because they showed up in a puff of smoke and the rest of our world kind of imploded. Some stuff I can write about and some stuff I don’t. Let’s just say my Dad REALLY wants me to move home now. So much for the romance of European Living.
Sparky picked up my father and brother from the airport on October 1st. Five miles from home the car started smoking – in through the air vents. They managed to get home and the car promptly died.
Welcome to Germany, Dad!
That was the car that could hold four adults and a kid seat.
Then our second car died.
Then the rental car died, the rental car we NEEDED to get to Frankfurt to be there when Scrunchy was put to sleep because he was in a lot of pain. His time was short and I sat there kicking a non-functioning car while my poor little cat sat in a strange hospital waiting for me.
And then Scrunch died.
A neighbor I barely know drove us, in Friday night traffic and waited for us to complete our business to drive us back. A bit of grace just when I needed it. Thank you, Uschi.
As an aside, can I just say that it cost us more to cremate Scrunchy than most of his vet bills?
My car was fixed in a day so at least we had one that worked. Not a car that we could all fit into at one time, but at least we weren’t stranded in the middle of nowhere otherwise known as our loft. Sparky would chauffeur my dad and brother to a restaurant then get Max and I so we could go out as a group. Not ideal, but at least we got to go out.
Max was, of course, an angel. His schedule was totally ignored. He went where and when we went and yet he was so flexible and easy. I don’t know how I got so lucky. I expect his first phrase to be “Hang ten, Dude.”
I was playing with him one day when he dropped his head too fast for me to react starting Guilt Fest 2009 part 465. His mouth hit my forehead and while it didn’t bleed, it left a mark on his perfect little duck lip and his tears mixed with mine. I felt like such a crappy mom.
It did however prepare me a little for today when he rolled off the bed – over the pillows that had held him in the middle before – and on to the floor. It is the first time I have ever been grateful for a bed 6 inches off the floor. He is fine. Not even a mark. Sparky and I might have had our lifespans shortened, but Max recovered with 30 seconds of snuggles and kisses.
The Kablooey room is, of course, a nightmare. Ikea delivered the wrong cabinets twice. The installation guy has rescheduled and the plumber went on vacation without telling anyone the details of our job.
But you know what? The last two weeks have either bestowed an inner knowledge upon my golden head or worn me down to the point I just don’t give a crap anymore. It’ll get done when it’s done and there ain’t nothin’ I can do to make it go faster.
I think it was the delivery of the only car the five of us could fit in at 9 pm October 12th, the night before my dad and brother left that really pushed that point home. At least we could all drive to the airport together!
Anyway, I’m recovering this week. I had a great time with both my Dad and brother, but I’m tired. Playing housekeeper, cook, mother,daughter, sister, and wife is exhausting. Thank goodness Max is there with me. We’ve spent a lot of the day snuggling and giggling in bed.
He went through a growth spurt over that two week visit and frankly, I don’t know who replaced my little baby with this long kid. He’s so big I can almost not remember him being small. Oh and that weaning thing? So not happening.
Gotta run, but here’s a little picture of the last two weeks.
I have had that damn theme song in my head for days now. It rotates with “C is for Cookie“