A Dead Monkey

Plans for yesterday evening were postponed, plans that involved me making supper for guests (which I love) and me cleaning the house (which I loathe). I wasn't surprised really. This is just another postpone-ment in a whole string of just-wait-it-outs that's been going on for almost 3 months now, but it did involve some creative re-arranging of my week. I've got my routines and my schedules because I like them and they make me more productive, but I also know how to be flexible. It's just more challenging in the summertime when I book fun stuff into our week and give it the same priority as "real" and "important" stuff.

But I got it done. Menus got shuffled, child-care for one day of work and dog-care for one night away got arranged, plans for cleaning the house were procrastinated.

The afternoon fell open before me, and I don't think I did a very good job of utilizing it. I hate that. I didn't do a good job of playing with the kids or tending to household duties that had been neglected for a week. Did I mention I hate that?

I remember lots of interruptions during the day from the kids, from the dog, from the laundry, and I remember the dog lying on my back while I was trying to take pictures.

But I also remember little laugh-able moments - crazy, messy, and exhausting moments - the kind that aren't always fun in the moment but always tug my lips into a little smile only seconds after they're over.  Moments like.....


...Jack letting muddy Belle in the house when I was half way through one french-braided pig tail in Ava's hair. For once, the braid actually looked good on the first try so I wasn't about to stop braiding to kick the dog out of the house.

...Muddy dog prints all over the dining room floor, my bedroom floor, and my comforter. But the braids were worth it.

...Watching Belle fruitlessly chase Barn Swallows with that this-time-I'm-gonna-catch-one look.

...Cleaning out and filling up the kiddie pool......complete with hauling warm water out the door......for 10-15 minutes of kiddie pool use.

...Biking into town, pulling the kids on the bike trailer, for one item at the store - with 2 low tires on the bike, 2 low tires on the trailer, soft gravel road from the previous night's rain, and wind against me in both directions. (Plus it was 80+ degrees outside with stifling humidity to boot........again with the less than rational decisions.)

...a filthy Jack-Hammer telling me he threw a dead monkey in the garbage. I asked him again, "What did you throw in the garbage?" 

"A monkey, momma!"

"What kind of monkey?"

"Eeee...Eee..oooo...oooo...ahhh...ahhh," he replied while waving his arms wildly.

I go check out the dumpster. But Jack says, "No not in there. I put it in the fire garbage." (The fire garbage is apparently what Jack calls our silo which survived the whole barn euthanasia event, and you don't need to know why Jack refers to it as the "fire garbage.")

"And what did you throw in there again, Jack?" I ask.

"A dead monkey!"

I guess we'll never really know what he threw in there.

I'll just keep living through the moments, my life to the sound track of trucks being pushed up and down the driveway and the little girl constantly singing to herself.

And I'll keep my eye out for more dead monkies.