The Leaving

Last week I said to PhilBillPaul,

“I hate it when they are home. I hate it when they leave.”

Their leaving last week caused a wee bit of stress.

Understatement of the year.

Stress that only parents can understand. And even then, some of you don’t know what I’m talking about. Maybe because your darlings haven’t left yet.

The darling twins are now gone for five months. I’m equating this departure to a semester abroad. Except they are in Arizona. So I guess it’s a semester out west. 😉

They will thrive and shine. They will be fine. Because we have prepared them for life in ways I’ve seen many of their peers are not prepared. For that, we are grateful.

We know they are equipped with life skills and life lessons. Even though they choose not to use those skills here at our house.

Roger Leroy sent me this text tonight just as I was about to write this…

“You not sharing any life lessons lately is bothering me.”

Funny kid.

I don’t like the blog pressure. Funny thing about the blog is that when I don’t write, people worry.

Sweet, kind people who wonder if something is wrong.

A few emails. A few phone messages.

As if my silence might indicated that my feet have been dangling dangerously close to the edge of The Black Hole.

Or that I may have set a personal record and taken xan*x three days in a row.

Side note: I’m not spelling the drug name out any more as it seems to attract spammers offering me all kinds of interesting pharmaceuticals.

I’m fine, fine, fine. I promise.

I’ve just been really busy doing some blog design work in between recovering from the holidays and spending quality time with the family.

I do miss them when they aren’t here. I really do.

Since this blog is really my online family photo album and my personal therapy, I’ll share this tiny glimpse of what I don’t and won’t miss…

Photos compliments of Scary Baby because I couldn’t bear to look again.

Oh yes, that is my precious little blue bug (that Wizzy is in the process of buying) and that is where a passenger is suppose to put their feet.

Why yes, that is chocolate milk and orange juice. And marinara sauce on the floor mat, I think. For the record, in an attempt to make me feel better, Wizzy did say it was OPT…Other People’s Trash.

Yes, as a matter of fact, I did cry. And scream. A lot.

Another proud week at the Humpfreeze.

Note to darling twins: I did refrain from posting pictures of your room (again). Or your laundry. Where Dad found a clean stack of clothes still folded in the bottom of one of your hampers tonight covered with dirty clothes you left here. Nice.

Just want to keep it real.

Where is that prescription bottle?