nixtress's Diaryland Diary

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Back when all your spits were red and woodies meant something else

I noticed, while waiting in the drop off drive at the boys' school this morning, that nearly every child was emerging from a minivan or an SUV. How funny is that? I suppose it makes sense, all things considered. Both types of vehicle have more space and room for assorted kids and stuff. The closest thing around when I was a kid were those old station wagons with the wood paneling-looking stuff on the outside. Ugly things!
Ryan managed to wiggly his loose tooth right out of his jaw tonight. He doesn't have many left, testament to the fact that my little baby isn't going to be all that little much longer. I don't think any of his teeth have bled as much as this one did tonight, though. It was like he'd managed to pull an artery out with that there tooth! And then, when he was in the bathroom swishing, he pipes up and says, "Mommy, all my spits are red!"
Little crackhead. I explained to him that it might take just a few moments for the bleeding to stop. I've always told my children when they had some miscellaneous scrape or cut to apply pressure to help stop the bleeding. Can you guess what my little crackhead did? He stuck my white towel in his mouth, shoving it between his pearly whites to apply pressure to the geyser in his gumline. And then grinned and tried to talk around the bulk of it. Fruit loop. He makes me laugh so hard sometimes. His infectious laughter sometimes is all it takes. Other times, it's just the development of his personality that knocks me upside the head and reminds me what a card he can be.
Actual Job #2 is coming along nicely. Two more days of training and they're cutting me loose, to work on my own without the hovering shadow of a coworker. It's not a difficult job, other than my perfectionism coming out. It's fun and social and gives me an outlet for the perky, customer-service freak I have lurking inside me.
I haven't mentioned Grams too much lately. I guess alot of that stems from my sinking realization that she's worsening in that nursing home. She has days where she doesn't recognize me, or days where she knows she SHOULD know me but can't quite place where from or why. There are, of course, the good days where she shows glimpses of her old self. I know it's a natural progression but sometimes that doesn't make it easier. I miss my Grams. I miss the rock that she was, miss the glue she provided in our family, miss her knowledge and her laughter and her stubborn nature. I know that my Gramps misses her too. On Sunday, my second oldest aunt got married for the second time, having been widowed a couple years ago. Gramps and I were talking about the wedding and how it all went and he commented that he knew she was lonely and thought it was good for her to have her new husband. He followed that by saying he's lonely too sometimes and that he never knew how much he'd miss having someone to talk to. That was incredibly poignant to me. Consider that he and my Grams have been married for over 50 years. The majority of both of their lives has been spent with each other. They've always been together, always played off one another. My Gramps is sort of lost now, without my Grams to organize him and bluster at him and gently bully him around while making him think it's his idea. It must be like losing part of yourself. Breaks my heart.
And I can only wonder if I'll have that.
It's cool here tonight, all of about 30 degrees last I checked. Mornings come, all crisp and covered in frost. The windows on the car take forever to defrost and if we go out too early, the boys like to draw pictures in the white. And if I leave with wet hair, it freezes in crunchy strands, all stringy and stiff. Most of the leaves have left the trees, piled up and scattered all around the yards in our city. There's a truck that comes through and sucks up the piles near the curbsides, much to the dismay of my kiddos. They see a pile of leaves and want to bury themselves in it. The squirrels are all plump and pudgy, but still scampering per the norm. I can hear Winter coming in the way the wind blows or smell it in the woodsmoke that lingers in the air. I think we'll have snow before Thanksgiving.
Happy Tuesday.
N.

9:27 p.m. - 2004-11-09

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