Adventures In Motherhood

 All I know is the tan suede moccasins were here one day and gone the next. That's really all I can say...  My husband Bruce adored his worn-in moccasins purchased in Vancouver, Canada on a Forced Family Fun (FFF) trip several years ago. He imagined they were stitched together by an indigenous tribe, later to be sold in that souvenir shop where we also bought a deck of Canadian playing cards. Those moccasins were so worn-in that the leather shoe laces had broken and the knots my husband made to tie them tight were barely hanging on, so on his birthday, the year prior to their disappearance, I took the beloved soles, along with the baseball catcher's mitt, to a professional baseball glove restringer.  That was back before Covid and the pandemic kept all six of us confined to our home. Back when FFF meant a rare family movie night and before I lost my marbles to four kids online schooling. Back before perimenopause and parenting four teenage children made me cray-cray. Back...

I put my foot down. My good foot that is, on principal that no mother should be left to languish incapacitated in her bedroom from sun up to sundown. Suffering pain from both MCL and complete ACL tears following a skiing accident, as if birthing four children wasn't enough, my life consists of RICE, (rest, ice, compression and elevation), and my en suite bedroom my natural new habitat. The days of 'alone time' sounding dreamy are not gone; they are merely on hold as the risk/reward of hurling myself down a flight of stairs for a Grub Hub delivery is questionable insanity. Covid-quarantine has apparently rendered my family especially deaf to my pleas for help. Mainly confined to my bedroom for my own sanity, the five other family members are unable to hear my cries for help with headsets affixed to their skulls diligently 'working' online.  What child responds quickly to a mother's call? I've gone through all their names, from "Gavin please come, are you...

My life could be a script for National Lampoon's Summer Vacation! Last weekend my in-laws arrived two days early 'Cousin Eddie' style, in a Winnebago parked in front of my house while I assumed the Clark Griswold role for better or worse, as if dictated by my wedding vows. Though my mother and late father-in-law always arrived at their leisure over our 23-year marriage without much forethought for our schedule, as my passive husband permitted, I cannot help but love these people who comprise my family and admire their sense of adventure! God bless 'em! Who could blame my 84-year-old mother-in-law for desperately wanting to see her son and grandchildren while embarking on a 2,000-mile trek to the Pacific Northwest, reminiscent of the travels she took with her late husband who passed last summer after nearly 65 years of marriage? This time my sister-in-law (aka Chia) and her partner of 18 years (aka Junker), along with their intimidating Boxer with enormous balls name...