Am I really that old? Wait... don't answer that!

It's hard for me to believe that I am the mother of adult children. To say the words "My daughter came home to visit." just shocks me even as the words tumble from my mouth. I look at her and still see the two pound baby I brought home from the hospital, and my instinct screams out "You can't go out that late at night!" or "Go to your room!" to keep her from wandering back out there, in the real world where adult children belong. Empty nest Syndrome? I'm not sure if that's what it is since my oldest son is still living on my couch and the baby (who is far from a baby at 13) is still home... But I suppose it would be close to what life is right now.

At some point, there is a line that we parents have to find in the sand. That line that has us teetering between raising a child and letting them go. And that line just.. sucks! That's where I am now. Trying to figure out how to be diplomatic, watchful and more important.. silent on matters that my adult children just have to figure out on their own. If I bit my nails, they'd be bloody nubs by now I tell you. I'm not always successful at keeping my mouth shut, but I can say I'm trying. Today is one of those days where I'm wishing I had a time machine so I could get a cuddle from a little precocious girl that thought she was a princess as she jumped on her bed. I think I would hop on the bed and jump with her instead of scolding her. Because after all, hindsight is 20/20 isn't it? And If I knew then that someday, I would be staring at her empty, unmade bed and wishing she were jumping on it.. I would have taken that moment to enjoy it with her rather than try to save the box springs.



I've been sick of the same old thing night after night when making dinner. So, being the adventurous person I am.. (Shaddup. I am too adventurous!) I have been trying out new recipes lately. Bill came into the kitchen earlier today and asks "Whats for dinner?" to which I replied "Its a Guinea pig night." which is code for, I'm trying something new and you may or may not be vomiting uncontrollably in a few hours. He sighed. Looked down, then looked back up with that look of resigned despair and said "Ok.. looking forward to it." and then moped back to watch TV. I started making dinner and here comes Joe, peeking into the kitchen to ask what I'm making. "Tuna patties." I said and held up my hand "You don't have to like it, but you do have to try it." I said for the first time today, but certainly not the last time. "What else are you making with it?" My politically correct son asks. "Your father requested Mac and Cheese." I said and he visibly cheered up before asking "Oh good.. You're making a lot of that right?"

I know the thought process there. I can see it written on the kids face as plain as if it were permanent marker. "If I don't like that crap she's making, I wont starve if there's enough Mac and Cheese!"

I replied with a sigh and a nod "Yes dear. there will be plenty to fall back on so you wont waste away."

The Tuna patties turned out great. Each person at the table ate two I believe, and to Davids credit.. he didn't even flinch when I put them on the table. (David is our new son. He came to live with us almost a year ago after he was kicked out of his parents house. I'm sure I haven't told that story yet, but It will be coming soon.)


Two of the kittens have found new homes. We miss both of them and their antics, but they are now living at my sisters house and keeping the mice out of her shed. We have kept Momma kitty, and the two gray kittens. We chose the two grays for fear that we would wind up giving Curious to someone by mistake.. so Scaredy Cat stays since they look pretty much identical. They have started wandering off to hunt, leaving me standing on the porch hollering "Kittens.... Kittens!!!.... KITTENS!!!" with a bowl of food in hand. I keep finding myself afraid that they wont return from one of those hunts. And yes, they answer to the call of Kittens. They have attributes that remind me of a dog. The door opens, they are right there. If I pull up in the car, they dart to my feet to hop around and greet me. Simply adorable little things.



Introducing.... Bob and Bobo. Bobo came first. He is a miniature horse and was purchased for my nieces and nephews to ride. I don't care if he is only like three feet tall, he has teeth. I keep my distance. Then Bill was determined to get a horse for Joe to ride. Hence Bob came to live with us. Bob was named before we got him, the likeness in names for the horses was not on purpose. LOL. They are the best of friends. Its amusing to watch them out of my kitchen window while I'm cooking. If one gets too far from the other, the one left behind will gallop full speed until he catches up. Once, the little wily one managed to get out of the corral to find freedom.. or longer grass.. on the other side. Bob about broke his neck trying to get out so he could be beside Bobo.
I have a fear of horses that others find amusing. But damnit... those suckers have very large teeth! Not to mention, the thought of riding one and having no control over what it chooses to do makes me more likely to play with a spider than ride them. And we all know how I react to spiders.