It's been almost a month since I've checked in. I could say nothing funny has happened to me in the month and that would be partially true since I've lost some of my sense of humor lately. Peaches is moving away. Like away, away. She wants to live closer to her fiancee, Junior. I suppose it's the natural. way of things, but for any mother who has watched their baby move away to another state, you know, it's not easy.
That said, I've regained my sense of humor because today we loaded the truck. And by "WE" I mean Hubby and a band of young lads because for some reason we forgot just how many people we had to UNLOAD that truck back in September. (Five. We had five strapping young lads.) So at about 6 Pm we walked into Peaches' apartment, took one look at the boxes and the furniture and realized that Hubby, Peaches and I would not be muscle enough to get the stuff OUT of the building. (Skippy was working.)
That's when I called my good friend Joy and she brought her four boys, whom I will call J's 1-4 and those boys and Hubby and Peaches got that tuck loaded in well under an hour. Where was I?
At Starbucks, enjoying an iced tea with Joy.
So now Hubby and Peaches are unloading half the truck into our garage. Why? Well, because Peaches doesn't exactly have a "place" or a "job" in the city where she is moving, so she'll be staying with her future mom in law for a bit while she's getting settled. The good news is that at some point later this year Hubby and I get to rent a truck again and drive the rest of the stuff down there. My mother points out that if Peaches were in college we'd be doing this all the time, so I really can't complain. And I'm not. I'm going to miss that girl big time. (Insert tears here.)
But I'm not here to weep about the passage of time and "Cat's in the Cradle" and all that.
I accomplished something on Mother's Day weekend that astounds me even now.
And it's gross.
So if you're easily grossed out, or if you're TODD, then don't keep reading.
you've been warned.
So Mother's Day was very nice. Well, the evening was. Dinner was lovely all my kids, biological and otherwise, were there, except Junior, who we missed. It was lovely.
Mother's Day morning I directed the Sunday School kids while they sang a song in church. I stress about this every year and every year God sees to it that it comes through okay.
This year I wasn't so sure that was going to happen. So I had a little conversation with God and it went like this:
Me: I just don't think we're going to have enough kids to sing this year, Lord.
God: Sure you will. You always stress about this, you'll be fine.
Me: But I think we need to have an over/under.
God: Like Abraham? If there are ten you'll sing and I'll spare Sodom?
Me: Yes. Ten.
Me. Wait, we're in the balcony and it's a big church. So maybe twelve.
God: Twelve. Got it. You have less than 12 and you don't sing.
Me: Wait...there aren't many older kids. And the little ones only know the refrain.15. 15 or less and we bail.
God: Fine. 15 or less.
ME: (sweaty and still stressed after first service.) Hey, God...what the what?
God: What's the problem?
Me: I said 15 or less and we wouldn't sing.
God: I sent you 16. Actually I sent you more like 30.
Me: Right. But of those 30, four of them I SWEAR were under the age of two, three of them showed up AFTER we actually sang the song.
God: Still holding at 23.
Me: Right, but here's the thing, Lord, of the 23, You sent me, 18 of them were under the age of 7 and the ones that weren't yanking their skirts up over their heads the whole time were looking at me like a herd of terrified fawns.
God: So what did you do?
Me: I told the pastor to invite the congregation to sing along so it wouldn't seem so...weak.
God: Hey, you singing groups in churches always talk about 'leading worship" and all that. What are you leading if no one DOWNSTAIRS joins the voices coming to Me from UPSTAIRS? People heard the song, they sang along, I was praised, and they got to sing something in your particular church that had a little zest to it. I like that Mike Westendorf.
Me: Okay. Fine. Lesson learned. But could You maybe have sent just a few more fourth and fifth graders so I didn't flop sweat through my favorite top?
Me: Why not, Oh Lord?
God: Because it wouldn't have been as funny.
Me: God, I don't know that I get your sense of humor.
God: And I don't get your pink hair.
Me: So what You're saying is we need to learn to laugh and not stress as much?
God: Sure, let's say that. Amen.
So that was Sunday morning.
And Saturday was really nice as well. My mother and I had our first weekend selling art and books at the Waukesha Farmer's Market and it went very well. I'm excited to be selling my two NEW books this summer, Missing in Manitowoc and my movie review book with Linda Schmalz, Two Moms, Three Glasses of Wine and a Movie. So Saturday morning went well.
And of course Saturday afternoon was the Kentucky Derby and this year I had a favorite going in, which I never do. I picked Nyquist, who was the favorite and actually won. I picked him because I'm a raging Redwings fan and any
horse named after a Detroit Redwing is going to be my favorite.
And he won!
But that's not why I'm writing all this. No, the thing I accomplished on Mother's Day weekend, the gross this is this:
I yanked off a skin tag all by myself.
For those of you not familiar, skin tags are those weird little....tags...of skin...that form pretty much anyplace. My dad's side of the family is silly with them. My mother tells stories of cutting my dad's off while they watch TV.
My brother goes to the doctor to get his burned off.
Expensive and gross.
I noticed one forming right at the base of my throat. Really lovely. right there in front of everyone, here's this bulbous tag of skin. So, Saturday night, I poked at it and rubbed on it and toyed with it long enough so that it fell right off.
Gross, yes, but also awesome for me.
Can't wait for the next one to grow on me!