Week Twenty...

 

The week started out with the annual Postal Food Drive.  It's a national drive for local food pantries where customers can put nonperishable food items in their mailbox, and we pick it up and get it to the pantry for them.  In our area we are the biggest supplier of food, second only to the Thanksgiving Parade drive the town does in November.  This was my donation this year, because food insecurity should never come between anyone and their birthday cake.

Sunday found the Hubs and I at the Brimfield Antique Show.  If you are unfamiliar, it's a HUGE fair where people come to sell literally everything you can think of. Last year I found a 5-gallon glass water cooler jug reminiscent of my childhood, and a bank of PO boxes I turned into furniture for under the TV.  Having lugged those over a quarter mile back to the truck, this year we borrowed my friend's garden cart, in case of treasures. The day started slow, I found this huge basin that, while I specifically bought to store in the garage for lobster Sundays, I totally love, and now resides on top of the fridge.

We started mid field and worked our way back down to where we started last year.  We stumbled upon the vendor that had all the PO boxes last year.  While I had no intention to get another, we were checking out the last one he had, an 8-box unit, when some guy behind us says Twenty Bucks!!!

SOLD

I have no idea what I'm going to do with it yet.  So many ideas, so little money. So, for now it will wait in the garage for it's transformation.

Speaking of no money, we've been tucking away a bit here and there since 2020 when we thought the fridge was about to die. The oven is also on it's last legs, and wouldn't you know it, the dishwasher died completely on Wednesday. Since we bought it at Sears, which went out of business around here about 8 years ago, when the Hubs and I discussed it, we decided not to fix, but rather replace it. Knowing he also didn't want to install it, I looked into the install costs. Yeah, no. Way too much for something we can do ourselves, so that project is good to go for the weekend, as well as finishing up the paint in Oldest's bedroom.

Which brings me to today, where I sit patiently for FedEx to deliver Youngest's new big boy bed. Oddly enough it never occurred to me that he's had the same bed since he was eight, and that his feet *might* be falling off the end every night. We discussed options, flipping his room with the other side of the basement, measuring, reviewed how much space he'd lose. Yesterday I flipped his current room so the bed would fit in, swapped out the carpet, blah blah... it was a ton of work, but hopefully it will work out. The next step will be to list his old bed, headboard, and trundle frames on marketplace as well as the king size frame he bought during the chaos of being homeless, to see if we can recoup some cash.

I feel like my whole life is a cycle of moving things in and out, without actually getting anywhere. I know progress is being made, just sometimes I feel like the wheels are just spinning on the treadmill.

Weeks Eighteen and Nineteen...

 .....have blended together since heading back to work.

I think I was back for 4 hours before I remembered why I was looking forward to major surgery and being out.

Today was a zero stars day.

I am surrounded by people who would rather be miserable than fix tiny annoyances that have become the status quo. 

Cases that just need to be shifted one inch so equipment can properly fit underneath them.

Delivery issues that sit unresolved for seven months because no one feels like making a phone call to get a community mailbox installed.

Lights that don't work.

The list is endless.

I don't accept the status quo if it doesn't work for me. The idea that it's always been done that way doesn't fly with me.  There is usually a better way to do things, particularly when it creates inconvenience or safety hazard for others. Needless to say, I've been back for 8 days and I've not been quiet about it.

Management decided to do a huge floor move with all of our workspaces.  It's a massive move that can only be done by the maintenance craft of which we have two employees, one of whom is on vacation for ten days. So of course, they started it the day before he left. Now, half the office is moved, and half is not. Since this was a layout we had 5 years ago, I know there's only one way our corner can be configured to not create a safety hazard. And since no one listens to the 20-year veteran employee, it was horribly done.  It was then tweaked on Monday afternoon, better, but still inadequate. So, I approached the boss, told him what works, he agreed, and when I returned Tuesday after noon it was in fact changed, but incorrectly. 

Still a fire hazard, still a safety issue, I was told to give them some time to work it out. For two days I've organized and loaded all my mail outside in the parking lot. Thankfully it's been beautiful out, but still... the parking lot. Today, since I am still not feeling up to par from the surgery, and my knee's giving me trouble again, I pulled a hamper over to the case for ten minutes to load buckets and trays into so I didn't have to walk them across the room. And that was the moment that a random supervisor, who doesn't supervise me directly, decided to come over...

You need to move this out of here, it's a fire hazard.

Are you serious?

Yes. (Face starts turning angry red)

You know I've said that this floor move of your management team has been a fire hazard for three days now. I've talked to the boss multiple times. He said to work anyway and give them time to fix it.

Well it has to move.

You're kidding, right?

No.

And as he walked away with voices raised, he made no effort to slide the hamper back the three feet he wanted. None.  Instead, he went and told on me to our boss, who knows this has been an issue for days and knows I've been working around it. And as I'm finally leaving to deliver, he catches me at the truck to find out what happened. So I give him the run down... this project that was their decision was not executed properly, and everyone knows/acknowledges this. Despite the fact that I've had to literally work outside 90% of the last two days to be safe, the ten minutes I chose to load my hamper close to my space, he chose to come over and harass me over a problem that YOUR management team caused. 

The boss just smirked, so I told him I was headed out since I was so mad, I wanted to go home and then he'd have two routes to cover, as oh by the way, I had volunteered to do extra today and was carrying a third of another route as well. 

No one said a word to me when I got back. 

The workspaces have been shifted within one foot of what I had asked.

I am no longer trapped if there is a fire.

The other case has been shifted to accommodate the equipment under it so it doesn't impact my space.

Yesterday a different supervisor told me that I needed to think about what worked best for the whole office, despite the fact that what I asked for worked for everyone for years, and the fact that I am literally the advocate for everyone in the office, hardly ever advocating for myself.

Maybe this accused selfish girl needs to actually take some time for herself. 

*sigh*

Only 7 more Christmases....

Week Seventeen....

 Me: I was thinking your high school trunk was really too small for all your memories, so I found you a new trunk to add your college stuff, and special childhood stuff into. What do you think?

Oldest: It's rusty.

Me: Did you see your trunk, it's kind of taking shape out there.

Him: Nah. *goes back to gaming*

Me: So, do you want wheels? How are you thinking you'll use it in your place? What about the inside lid? Any thoughts?

Him: No. I mean I appreciate what you're doing, but I'm no where near as excited about this as you are.

Me: Okay.

Him: Does that make you sad?

Me: God no. I know I'm a special kind of crazy.

The special kind of crazy that saved the dog tag (names and address blurred out here) he made at the amusement park when he was 8 from the landfill, specifically for this project.

The special kind of crazy that added wheels, cedar lining throughout, and new leather handles for which I have ordered black custom end caps for.

The kind of crazy that spent hours hand rubbing the interior and exterior with linseed oil until every grain, imperfection, and 100 years of history shone through. 

The special kind of crazy that took all of his favorite memories, places he's lived, sports he's played, and crafted a custom insert for the lid (most of which has been edited here for his privacy)

The special kind of crazy that only can be his momma.

Weeks Fifteen & Sixteen...

 Well, I'm still home from work. The doctor didn't want to write the "limited duty" note specifics, so I'm home until May. While it's been good that I could take care of a lot of loose ends, I'm starting to go a bit crazy.  

I've organized, sold, given away, nearly everything in the house. Youngest's stuff is slow and steadily selling online.  I sold off all the empty alcohol bottles in the garage to a crafter, ironic that so many had accumulated since we don't drink. 

I have been putting marketplace to good use for us as well. Last year we got a gas firepit, not realizing it wouldn't come with enough crushed glass or a wind guard. I found someone local selling brand new crushed fire glass for half what it costs in the store.  Then, after scouring the internet, comparing prices, and debating sizes, I also found a brand-new glass wind shield ring for less than half of what It retails for, and hello... no shipping.

So, with the firepit now complete, I was concerned that someone would crash into it and break the very expensive, hard to replace, ring and decided we needed a more substantial cover. Trying not to spend too much money, I went to my friend's house, foraged through her burn piles, and came out with some old fence pickets.  I'm pretty sure her kids thought I was crazy. I got to work when I got home and fashioned a support cover to go under the actual waterproof cover for a total of ZERO dollars.  Not pretty, but it will do the trick. 

The Hubs is down to just two lots of NASCAR collectibles for sale on Marketplace, and a large lot of PEZ.  It's been a lot of work, but we've made nearly $2K, just in time for the vet bills to roll in from Girl #1.

After a quick shave and ultrasound, the vet determined that the dog has Cushing's disease. It seems pretty textbook, and she can be medicated to live out the rest of her years comfortably. The weight should start coming off soon, which will make her arthritis much easier, and we can resume her long walks on the beach and park. Truthfully, I'm just happy she's stopped licking the floor. Gross. She's also on prescription food for her stones, and she'll be jaunting around bare belly for a bit, but at least we have an answer. If you ask her though, her nakedness is worse than the cone of shame.

I built a catio for the other girl. The original plan was to build a castle style turret on the house, but since we only have one 7lb cat, I thought that could be a bit much. And after the aforementioned gazillion dollars spent on the dog, I needed it to be cheap.  I used scraps from various projects in the garage, and spent a whole $30 on screen. 

It's not perfect, but a far cry from the shelter she was in in Puerto Rico.  She spends hours in it every day, and so far, has not tried to escape. While she spends most of her time rolling on the "carpet", she likes the upper level, as there's just enough room for her to sleep, and it's nearly completely shaded from the often brutal afternoon sun. The awning is left over sunbrella fabric from the patio chair cushions I made last year. I styled it with an old bathmat and her "bed" is made from the same awning fabric, stuffed with old dog towels for easy washing. So all in, I'm still at a grand total of $30.

I have resisted the urge to get her a plant for her new digs. And if you weren't convinced that I had lost my mind with this project, two days later, I built stairs for her...

Also out of scraps we had in the garage, so while I may be bonkers, I'm doing it on the cheap. 

Last year, when I was at my worst point with Youngest, I was searching to remember better days.  When he was little, he LOVED daffodils. I suspect it was because of the stark contrast of the brilliant yellow color against the dreariness of winter blah. Daffodils are amazingly resilient, popping up through ice and snow, often surviving multiple cold snaps before the sun finally warms the world up enough to bloom. And while the winter may not have been brutal this year, our relationship was, and as all those bulbs I planted popped up this year, I was reminded myself that it's not just the daffodil that's resilient. 

My tulips are also starting to pop.  I am disappointed to see that the black ones I bought didn't come up. Apparently, I either got an entire batch of duds, or the squirrels are partial to them. 

The entire yard's starting to pop now.  Every day there's more and more green. Hubs did the rest of the yard clean up last weekend and we just have to decide which way we're going with the window boxes. I took another bonsai class.  The trees in this class were about double the size of the ones in the last class.  The technique was a bit different as well, as was the company, so it was fun.  I went with a windswept tornado style for this one.  We'll see. 

I put both of them outside today to catch some much-needed real sunshine instead of the UV light.  If this picture says anything, it's that the winter one has a LOT of catching up to do. 

Oldest has returned home for the semester break.  He passed all his classes, including the one he was unsure of. He was accepted into the Master's program and is talking this week to reach out to employers and try and decide what he will be doing in August. He went through all of his "keep" storage boxes from his childhood and edited down to two small totes, but not before playing with it all first.  I haven't been hit with this many nerf darts, ping pong balls, and air soft pellets since he was 8. 

Youngest took a second job to keep himself busy.  He's working in a gluten free bakery part time and the tasty treats he's baking up at home have been delicious.  Today's treat was soft cheesy pretzels. The only downside is that he's used to cooking for a retail shop, and he doesn't always remember to cut the recipe down to normal family size portions.  Currently there's 19 large cheesy pretzels on my counter.

There are worse things though, right?

Until next week my peeps....

Today....

What's goin' on, Mama?

Somethin' just dawned on me,

I ain't been home in some months...

Yeah, I'm sorry that I called you so late

I just miss you but anyways...

Thought you should know

That all those prayers you thought you wasted on me,

Finally made their way on thru.

Yeah I know you've been worrin' About me,

You've been losin' sleep since (two thousand three)...

~Morgan Wallen

I need people to stop telling me he will come back.

Once he gets on his own, he'll understand.

He'll come back in a few years and you'll see the son you raised.

He'll come around.  He just needs to grow up a bit.

Because the truth is, the boy I remember may never come back. Our relationship is forever changed from the last three years. And while I may see glimpses of the old him, he may never come back.

I may never have the relationship I had, or want, with Youngest. 

And it's easier if I let go of the hope that I might.

Odds are he'll move away.  Start his adult life. He may never come back other than holidays; if at all. The relationship I had with him before may never be the same, because he is not the same. 

He's making small talk again. Offered to make a special pizza for us. We cleaned through some of his old life in the garage. I asked him why he was cleaning it out now, he said he wasn't ready before. His medication sits filled, untouched, on the kitchen table. He's agreed to start taking it again, but he's not ready yet. He's paying bills. Keeping money in the bank. Exercising. 

But these moments come and go.

The sense of humor, that unique quirkiness that was all him, is gone. His bold head fastness into challenges is lacking. His confidence has waning. The bottle that holds the lightning that has always embodied him, has so many cracks. I've never been the praying type, but I pray every day that he finds his way, that he finds his peace.

Some days it's a struggle to understand the young man that stands in my kitchen. 

Most days the Morgan Wallace song brings me to tears.

Every day I need to not hear that, someday it will be like it was.

Today, I need to be okay with what we have now.

Because, tomorrow is unknown.

Week Fourteen...

 Can we all just take a moment and applaud the fact that I am actually keeping up with my blogging (more or less) once a week? 

This week is the first week where I've really felt like myself since the surgery.  I think, in talking to the Hubs regarding both our procedures, we both completely underestimated how much quality of life we'd been sacrificing.  I mean, not getting up 6 times a night to pee? Yes please!

The Hubs decided to sell off a lot of his old collections.  We posted his Insanely Huge Lot of Star Wars stuff on FB marketplace and if everything goes as planned, we will complete the sale on Saturday.  Funny part is this guy has no idea how much stuff is in the Insanely Huge Lot, as every time we pull a new box down to go through, we find more.... and more.  Thankfully, this guy has a truck.

Next up is his Hot Wheels Collection, 86 items, all in the original packaging, as if it were plucked from the shelves yesterday.  But it wasn't.  It's from 1998 & 1999. Stored for all these years.  I also posted his KISS collectible cars, as a joke I sent them to my friend as an early Christmas present for her husband.  No joke, we're meeting up this week so she can buy them.

I posted his DVD collection; it sold in 6 hours.

We are going through his Hot Wheels collection this weekend as it is another insanely huge lot, God help me. Then the PEZ, and while I have no hopes for it, he's teasing that the NASCAR collection can go as well.

Youngest, has had high hopes for a few years of owning a smoke shop.  Pot is legal here for both recreational and medicinal use, so glass shops are popping up everywhere, particularly ones that don't sell actual bud because the liability is far less, and the licensing is easier to get. In January, when everything came to a screeching halt, His Pipe Dream went up in smoke. He tried developing a web page for it all, but soon got overwhelmed, and having cut himself off from the smoking world, moving it all proved exceedingly difficult. Seeing how I've been off for a bit, I found a specialty site, similar to eBay, and began listing. For someone that has never smoked, I now know WAY more about this than I ever wanted to know. The things we do for our kids, huh?

So yeah, between becoming the CEO of Youngest's head shop business, and an active Marketplace side hustle for the Hubs, I've been keeping busy.  I had my follow up appointment with the doctor today. I fully expected to go back to work next Tuesday, and despite not being able to sleep in until 9am, was welcoming going back and regaining some semblance of normal. He cleared me for work with limited capacity.

There is no limited capacity for a carrier.

So, now I'm out of work until May 1st.

They'd better start nailing stuff down around here... with another 3 weeks there'll be nothing left I haven't sold.

Week Thirteen....

 Truth is it's been lovely weather here, mostly in the 50's and 60's, the sun has been shining and all my flowers are popping up.  I had planted around 80 bulbs in the fall, spent a pretty penny on them as they are colors rarely seen around here, and was panicked that the frost would move back in and kill them all, but they seem to be soldiering on. The cat, however, slept tightly curled yesterday letting me know the weather was 'a changin'. The upside-down part is my sign that she would be completely crazy lately...

Given the rain, the girls had decided early on that napping would be the play today.

While I'd have loved to oblige them, I am finally starting to go a bit stir crazy inside what with Hubs also being home with me.  He returns to work on Monday (thank GOD) and I'll be on my own for one last week before returning to work. 

As much as I've loved being home for the last 6 weeks, it's probably time. I mean, I broke down and drove 90 minutes round trip to got my ears re-pierced on Monday. One would think that after 35 years they would not have closed up from not wearing earrings, but there I was picking out studs. One would also not think I'd spend 30 minutes picking out studs or have that sick feeling in my stomach while waiting for the stab, but there I was, back in my 13-year-old body nonetheless. I went with lavender opals if anyone was wondering.

On Tuesday I started the "2 Million Dollar Puzzle" Hubs got for Christmas. It comes with no image and all of the pieces can be used in multiple spots. The company rates it a 5 on a hardness scale.  The company is stupid, because this is the hardest, most infuriating puzzle ever. Basically, you construct a QR code, scan it, and see what you've won. It took ALL day Wednesday, most of Thursday, and part of Friday to get me down to the last two pieces.  Which didn't fit.  And I wasn't fixing it.

 But it scanned anyway, so I'm calling it a win.  Not a two-million-dollar win, but a win. And knowing me, I'll spend it all in one place. 

I finished painting the basement stairs since my trimming it out properly was clearly not going to happen since it's been five years. I don't hate it, as it looks finished now, and it was one of the few things I really wanted to get done while I was off recovering. I am scoping out where we can put another half bath, because having only one bathroom sucks.  I've mapped out some ideas for the basement, which incidentally would increase Youngest's room 3-fold, give him a semiprivate bathroom, and private outside entrance to his space. I'd discuss this with him, but you know, he *insert eye roll here* can't wait to move out, so it will be a surprise I guess if it happens. 

Hubs thinks I'm being ridiculous, that we don't need another bathroom. He stopped just short of telling me NO.

Tomorrow I'm discussing with my Dad the cost of adding a bathroom.

It will likely happen this summer.

Week Twelve...

 Are you nervous?

No.

What if I bleed out on the table?

He did not in fact bleed out on the table. He did not even end up with a surgery, rather a procedure that will allow the prostate to shrink on its own that didn't even require full anesthesia. Currently he's home complaining about the bruising and his man cold. 

I am feeling much better, still slower than I'd like for recovery, but at least I feel like myself. I've been to the grocery store nearly every day, walking the dog, cleaning, and finishing up odds and ends before I go back to work in two weeks. 

Oldest came home this weekend so that we could go to the local casino to see Nick Offerman and celebrate Youngest's birthday. A good weekend was had exploring the outlet mall, indulging at Guy Fieri's, and throwing axes. The boys had a decent time together, as Oldest can see tiny bits of the old youngest coming back into the fold. He didn't realize that Youngest had gone nearly pot free, and now that we're through the detox period, he can see the changes.

Youngest has decided to give up nicotine smoking this week as well, so the mornings have been a bit bumpy.  He's offsetting the cravings with nicotine gum and so far he's doing well with it, using less than recommended.  He starts not one but two jobs this week. Not sure what his plan is with them, but work is key in getting him out of this house and where he wants to be. His hand is healing slowly, but he no longer needs the brace, and he can lift small amounts of weight with it.

Spring has sprung for the most part here.  My daffodils and tulips are well on their way of coming out of hibernation. We've had many 50–60-degree days, and while today is not one of them, I'll take the rain, as it helps slow things down a bit.

And with that, I'm off to the grocery store again....

Twenty One...

 Last week you complained you hated my sappy music in the car. Today, as I sit in the living room, I can hear your latest playlist while you're getting ready in the shower., it's all the same genres, and it is killer. You're singing along while the water runs. I've missed your singing. You stopped singing three years ago.

You stopped a lot of things three years ago.

Twenty-one years ago this week, I was being wheeled into the OR for a c-section because the midwives couldn't find your vitals. As soon as I was prepped, you rebounded and appeared fine. I was wheeled out, only to be wheeled back in when they couldn't find a heartbeat, and back out again as you rallied. They broke my water, you floated down onto your cord.  I had to have synthetic fluid put back in so you could float back up and "breathe". I was rolled in and out of the OR a total of 4 times before you were finally born naturally, of your own volition. Little did I know that this would be the dance we would do for the rest of our lives together. 

You've always been all in in everything you do. You have never been able to do anything a little bit.  It's all or nothing. You couldn't just read, you had to read until you were the number one reader in the entire middle school. Karate had to be done 6 days a week. Road races were run every weekend. You couldn't just do a Spartan race, you had to achieve the Trifecta. You weren't just a boy scout, you became an Eagle. You couldn't just wrestle.  You had to make it to states. And as much as you are all in, you're all out when you're done.  

You put down the books.

You stopped running.

You stopped going to Karate.

When season was over, you stopped wrestling.

And so, when you picked up a vape, you were all in. The bong, same. And any other distraction from becoming an adult, and assuming responsibility for your actions, you were all in. The last three years have been hell. For as much as we fought, and you pushed us away, cutting everyone off, you were all in. In my heart I knew no one would be able to stop you. Not me. Not your friends. Not being homeless. Not almost being stabbed. Not a gun fired at your head. The truth is, I have been dreading this week for years, because a small part of me thought neither of us would survive it.

But two months ago you decided you were done. You saw your friends for who they were and walked away.  You sold off your social media accounts, as well as everything that could drag you back into that life. You're looking for a job that will ensure you don't have to see any of your old contacts. The first month was hard, the detox, the paranoia, the anxiety, the depression. Magnified by the surgery and complete inability to move your right hand, then your car breaking down, and the abandonment of the few friends you had left, I thought for sure it would not last. We fought a lot. I snapped, showed you the door, you came home anyway. You loaded your dishes in the dishwasher.

Because YOU had decided, you were done.

On your birthday, you chose to go to lunch with your grandparents and me.  You had one drink, and a huge steak. You even had dessert. Eating has been such a struggle for you the last three years. You could have gone anywhere afterwards, you came home.  You stayed in that night. Tonight, St. Patty's Day, you had thoughts of going out, but when it started to sprinkle you chose to stay home. Saturday you're going to the MMA match to cheer on your friend, currently 3 and 0, and I fully expect a phone call if you need a ride home. I never expected you to be completely sober, but you've only hit the bong twice this week, world's away from where you were. 

I've danced the dance with you for a twenty one years now. I know better than to think we will never step on each other's toes, trip up on a missed beat, or even dance ourselves off the dance floor into a pile of chairs. But tonight, when you excitedly said you'd finally gained back ten pounds that'd you'd lost, I could see around the corner.  And, when you asked me to help you fix the holes in your walls for good, because you didn't want to have to remember the you that put them there, I had a tiny bit of hope. 

This can be your year Youngest. 

You just have to be all in.

Happy 21st.

Week Ten...Elevenish

 My social battery at an all-time low, week ten was spent hiding away in the house between airport runs for Hubs and Oldest. Spring break went as fast as it came, with Oldest only being home for a few days of it.  Gormet ice cream sundaes were had, groceries were bought, TV shows were binged. While they were in Florida, Youngest and I were left to fend for ourselves. Attitude was thrown, glances were exchanged, words flew. By the end of the week, he was at least cleaning up his dirty dishes. Despite the weather being decent, walking the dog fell squarely on me while they were gone, and I developed a small hiccup in my recovery.  The doctor says it's nothing to worry about, but I'm back on some medications and taking my temperature every day to ensure it's not an underlying infection. 

The dog returned to the vet for a recheck of her liver enzymes.  She's gained weight even though we've reduced her food, and her liver numbers got worse.  They want her back in for a thyroid panel to see if that's the underlying cause of everything. In the meantime, her arthritis is getting better.

The cat is still a tiny ball of mayhem.

Today is Youngest's 21st Birthday.

More on that later.

Week Nine....

 Day fifteen post-surgery and I am finally getting a day to myself, to sit and smell the roses that my dear friend Janie sent me from across the country. She also anonymously sent chocolates from England, the good stuff, but I totally knew it was her.  She's the best-est!!!

The rollercoaster that is Youngest's life right now that has had me on the go every day, has come to an end, as he purchased a new car yesterday. Never an ideal situation when you have to have a car towed into the dealership, the salesman and finance guy did an amazing job getting him into a comfortable payment and solid car.  He has a 36-month payment commitment, and a 3-year warrantee for his new to him Toyota. Now if he can find a job, he could finally move forward with his plans...

I've been in and out of the vet four times in two weeks for the dog.  She needs to lose about 30 pounds.  Turns out her high-quality dry dog food is calorie packed and her normal serving size is half of what she's been getting for the last 4 years. In an effort to her lose the weight I've taken to making my own dog food, which she's a HUGE fan of. I'm a huge fan of the price tag, which, if I can also get her off the arthritis meds, will save us $300 a month. 

Oldest comes home tonight for Spring break.  He'll be home for three days before heading down to Florida with the Hubs. While spending it with Hubs wasn't exactly the Spring Break he wanted, the two of them will have a blast and they both could use to be away from home for a bit. I miss him and wish he was home for longer, but he's doing well and that's all I can really ask for, right?

As for me, I'm taking a lot of deep breaths, naps, and enjoying my current status of sitting on the couch with this girl...