Tuesday, June 9, 2015

Tuckered Out (in a good way)

This past week has been kicking my ninety five pounds all over the place, from home to work and home again.

I've gotten so much done in the yards you can actually see all four sides of our house now. For five years I thought we were living in a triangle shaped house at best.

It's no Graceland or Biltmore House but sure feels like it being less than two years away from being paid off.

I hauled over five hundred pounds of river rock and lined the flower beds and walk ways, pulled weeds and put down pine straw. I even fancied it up a little out by where the trash can sits.

Work, the one I get paid for has been kicking my booty on a daily basis five sometimes six days a week for the past few weeks.

I absolutely love working in the new international terminal. It's so clean, open and serene amidst sometimes pure controlled chaos. That's my kind of place to work and love even more the wonderful place where I was lucky enough to land (small pun) a job.

It starts in early March, the madness and continues until well after Thanksgiving. Every day is a mental and physical sling fest and you know me, I love to fight!

Last year I was thrown into it after earning (what felt like) my brain surgeon status. I was lucky to just keep up but made more money than I ever had in my life.

This year I was ready...so I thought.

Since I feel and look so much older decided to highlight my hair to take away from my face. I've also taken voracious notes, asked hundreds of questions but still get my butt kicked at least four times a week (and that's a good thing) in my line of work.

Then I come home to an even harder job, running a household of three peeps and three pups.

I got some pretty dang good kids but have a few faults which drive me insane(er).

Here's a few facts am sure every momma endures with her kids and often rolls her eyes about.

Why do the kids have to swat a fly like they're trying to jack one out of the park? Half the time, if they are successful you can't even find the nasty little carcass or either they've smeared it to smithereens all over what ever the little buzzing nuisance landed on.

Approach, stand still and slowly tap with minimal force works just fine for me, haven't lost one carcass yet!

Next, why do they squeeze a tube of toothpaste like they're in an iron man competition? I promise it will come out just fine if you squeeze from the bottom and flatten the tube as you use it.

They have gotten better about throwing things away when done with or empty but nine times out of ten miss the intended  target by less than two inches.

They are both obviously missing the gene it takes to completely start, finish and put away a cycle of laundry.

A messy or dirty bathroom is no big deal to them. (disgusts me)

After living in the same house for almost two decades still put some things in the wrong place when unloading the dishwasher. (I'm just happy over three quarters of the job's done and never complain about this one)

They can't just tie a simple knot when taking trash out. I don't know how many times I've gone to add something to a bag of trash they took out and was like trying to open a Da Vinci code.

This one really irritates me and their dad was guilty of it too when still lived here at home.

Zach is unfortunately way too much like me and fortunately not like me both at the same time. It's like I gave birth to  Catdog twenty three years ago.

He's like having a house cat who loves to laze around but randomly has sudden unexpected bursts of freakish energy when you least expect but sometimes need the most. Guess I'll keep him.

Massey's my "Good Girl" and bestie for the most part except for the week Aunt Flo visits her. Are you counting? That's twelve weeks a year.

Aunt Flo never bothered me much when I was younger. Of course she never gave me boobs either.

I guess all in all I'm pretty stinking lucky. My kids watched us almost financially go under but even better, watched us not only keep going but make huge sacrifices to move up, ahead and beyond. None of them ever complained (or turned me in for check kiting) and were always supporting and encouraging. Heck they could have moved out and been fine on their own but chose to stay and help.

Ya gotta dance with one who brung you, otherwise it's giving up.

 We may be a lot of things but quitters ain't one of 'em. Loved is!

Til next time...COTTON

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