Present And Accounted For...

I assure you, as I sit here typing away, I am alive and well.

The house is finally quiet, and I am in the midst of a rare moment of awake-ness, which I am sure won't last much longer than it takes for me to type this up and hit post. Mr. Chewey is off hunting rogue moths that have flown in and everyone else is asleep, which you'd think would lend the perfect scenario in which I could get my thoughts together, but it doesn't. Truth is my head is swimming with thoughts of everything I forgot to do today and things I can't control.  I am not unlike ninety percent of the rest of the planet in that respect.

I'm not sure why I haven't posted in over a month.  It's not as if nothing has gone on. My mother in law is home on Level 1 hospice, but one of her drainage tubes as been removed, and otherwise she is status quo.  Tony had a birthday, the last of his 40's, and we spent it with her and some of his family.  Perhaps the last one he'll see with his mom and sadly not one photo was taken.  His sister has stopped all her chemo treatments.  In the 2 months since she has received her diagnosis, it's unlikely she'll see Christmas. What's sadder is the unspoken words between her and her mother that will likely fall away to the Portuguese stubbornness that they are all known for. The hypocrisy between the nephews, aunts, and cousins will likely never be resolved and will only fuel the division in the family. All things Portuguese, the language, those left back in Portugal, will likely die with her.

Death tends to magnify everything.  Anger. Resentment.  Guilt.

And yet, somehow it can make good things sweeter. Slower.  More enjoyable. Among the countless guilts I have as a mother is that the boys don't get a real summer.  Sure, they get a break from classrooms and homework, but they go to camp 3 days a week.  Oldest is a counselor in training, so in reality he's like an intern.  Youngest still gets to play soccer and basketball along side arts and crafts, but is still stuck in the routine of a program.  Which is why, for the first time ever on Wednesdays, when I'm off from work, and no one has to get out of bed, and the phone rings, I don't answer it.  I want them to have a summer day.  A do nothing, lay around the house in your underwear day. Or, a cartoon marathon and eat ice cream for breakfast day.  Whatever.

And we have.  Two weeks in and we have watched more TV and eaten more ice cream than I care to admit.  We have grilled burgers, picked peas from the garden, planted flowers and watched them bloom. We've watched fireworks downtown with the masses, readied the fishing poles, and borrowed kayaks for boy sized adventures that took months to plan but will hopefully last in their memory for a lifetime.

We've done house projects.  I'm in the middle of another bedroom makeover that no one will ever notice but me.  (Seriously, I spent 3.5 hours making a tailored bed skirt. Tony saw the sewing machine, noticed the fabric was gone, commented on the mess of threads on the floor, and still didn't notice the bed skirt.)  We've got the last of the windows going in, and a roof scheduled to go on. A 75 pound hand crafted wooden flag now hangs proudly 13 feet up on our garage, a team effort of dangerous (and yet semi comical) proportions.

We are outside soaking in sunshine.  Tony is running.  I am walking fast and running the length of someone's front lawn, with all the grace of an under accessorized Mrs. Potato Head, but I am out there along side him. Oldest is doing the summer conditioning program at the High School.... everyday... for 2 hours.  Youngest is reading but hiding less and less.  He's also eating everything in sight, and if my math is right, has gained 15 pounds in 3 months. He's talking to me.  They both are.

For the first time in a long time, I feel like I'm engaged as a parent.  I am here.  Not on the computer.  Not running into work to pick up overtime.  Not lost in my phone. Not planning some crazy vacation, or working the budget.

I. Am. Here.

Napping on the couch with our now 15 year old Mr. Chewey Cat.  Making grilled cheese for dinner.  Sneaking 3 Musketeers into their lunchboxes.  Teaching Youngest how to cast a line, while insisting he applies his poison ivy cream. Ensuring sure Oldest has his CIT shirt clean for camp the next day. Changing the battery in the smoke detector that starts chirping at 10:16 PM.

So while I may not be here, typing, or figuring out how to get the pictures of all the aforementioned fun times downloaded off my new phone so I can make this post pretty for y'all, rest assured....

I am here.