Thursday, March 25, 2010

Jiggidy Jig

I've been on the road alot lately. So it is every spring and fall. Maybe I secretly want to be a goose, I dunno.

Sometimes it's nice to get away, even if it is for work. A hotel room all to myself is almost better than an empty house. I don't have to clean it. The quiet and privacy are as good as chocolates on a pillow. I have no one to answer to but myself. The miserably difficult decision of what to cook for supper isn't mine to make. Ahhhhh.

But then the conference is over and I go home.

I walked in the door the other evening, and was greeted by Reiley and a long, real hug. Which is surprising since Reiley, at 13 is too cool for such things and my hugs have been slowly reduced to one arm awkward pats on the shoulder. The hug lasted for like 5 minutes, and with my boots and coat still on was a bit long, but I wasn't missing the opportunity to hug my boy/man.

Shady, my only girl, even if she's a dog, trots up all excited to see me and actually speaks. Rooowwwwllll she says with her whole butt wagging in delight. Then trots off to fetch her new bone to show me. She carries it with pride. Tickled pink with herself.

Owen comes scrambling from where ever he was playing, leaps into my arms and tells me all about what I've missed in sentences without periods. He played with bouncy balls in gym and had pizza for lunch but not from the cafeteria, from home, cuz Dad made it last night and why didn't I pack his hat because it was cold and he's playing with his bionicles and do I know where his lost toy is....I wish I was six again some days.

Martin stands back and watches, I see his smiles. He waits his turn. His face is fresh shaven and kisses deliciously soft. His hugs are like batteries and recharge me. Ahhhh. I love coming home.

Thursday, March 11, 2010

The art of being grumpy if there is such thing.

It's ugly. I can't picture anything uglier. It feels ugly and I have no control. My sugar drops and like a full moon rising this thing builds inside me and I change right before your very eyes into a beast. Werewolves would be kinder I think.

I snarl and spew venom at anyone within range. The kids run and hide. The oldest son, teaching the youngest to just stay away. Martin treads carefully testing the degree of grumpiness, and asks what's for supper. I snarl, growl, show fangs. Wolves come out of the woods hearing my howls. If it's full blown he ducks. If it's not he guides me and I grumble and growl as I prepare the meat for the meal. Some days he tries to make the meal but ROAR, I don't want to eat that! So he doesn't.

When he's brave, Martin puts on his armour, yields his sword and tries to tame the beast. Deflects my bites and gets close enough to shove some food down my throat. Beer works. Or wine. Sometimes even a cookie. Then as quickly as it came, the murderous tendencies fade and I purr like a kitten. The beast is sedated. He gives me a scratch behind the ear and I change back into myself.

Some people in my family like to tease the beast (not naming names brothers) and poke me to see just how enraged I can get. A game to them. I snarl, they laugh. Which is why when I was a kid and kicked my oldest brother square in the nose, my mother told him he deserved it and I got away scott free.

It would be nice if I never got grumpy at all, but it's genetic. A characteristic of my father and I that the family has decided is within limits to tease us about. (no they did not consult us when that was decided) My father and I growl at each other and as life would have it, understand each other quite well.

At least my kids are like Martin. Slayers of dragons and not dragons themselves. My oldest brother has the kids with the grumpy gene. Who said nature doesn't have a sense of humour?