Saturday, November 8, 2014

     














      As I stepped out of the giant kidmobile to hug my four little grand-daughters, one of the six-year-old twins greeted me with, “Mommy says she’s tired of you.” Taken aback, I said, “What? I just got here.” After hugging each of the four, I turned to my daughter in the driver’s seat and said, “What do you mean, you’re tired of me?” She laughed, embarrassed, and said, “I didn’t say that. I said you were exhausting.” “What does that mean?” I gasped. She said, “You have so much energy!” As I stared at my clone whose energy level is tantamount to 15 10-month old kittens on steroids, I just laughed, and said, “ You are hilarious. Be thankful, most women my age are dead.”

     After less than 24 hours in my daughter’s home (where I slept horizontally fully-clothed in the downstairs 7-year-old nest), I am waiting for her to come home from her Saturday morning “ Fitness Boot Camp“ workout so we can spend the next five hours watching girly munchkins play soccer. And I’m “exhausting?”

     I was not planning on Mr. Wonderful being in sleep coma at 9:00 p.m. when I went downstairs to prepare for a good night’s rest. Not wanting to turn on the lights to awaken him, I headed for the stuffed animal museum where I got maybe three to four hours’ sleep. Oh well, there’s always time to sleep, and my only requirement this morning is muttering, “Go, girls!”

    Day one.