Never having been actually hit with a sledge hammer, I can't say with absolute certainty this is how it feels. I can merely state this is how I think it must feel when one has been clobbered with a large object intended to knock down a wall or drive a stake into something. Every muscle in my body hurts. Muscles I didn't know existed hurt. I never used to feel this way after cooking a large Thanksgiving meal. I am, apparently, too old for this thing they call "getting together with one's family."
To the best of my recollection, yesterday was busy. I vaguely remember cooking and cleaning. I also remember seeing my family members arrive. There was a lot of noise. I think there was an entire preschool class here, but they tell me there were only three little boys and one very mature ten year old girl. I think they were lying to me because I could swear there were about thirty kids here. This year's bounce house was slightly less of a hit than last year's. Translation: thirty little boys were running all over the house, screaming at the top of their lungs and shooting each other with squirt guns.
Of course, one fell into the pool. It was to be expected. He was not pushed, although it probably occurred to him to try and make that claim. There was a lot of blame going around. Claims of, "He stabbed me with a fork!" "Well, he said something to me!" "I didn't get a dinosaur cup!" "Are the grownups going to talk about the news and argue like last year?" to name a few. It went on like that throughout the entire meal. I think I ate. I'm not sure.
My attempt at keeping things under control with the cats went out the window. All six of them started out safely ensconced in the front bedroom with five litter boxes, food and water and lots of toys. I thought I was starting to hallucinate from too many wine coolers, because I would catch a glimpse of a cat flying through the house. I had forgotten telling little boys a room is off limits is heard instead as, "At the first chance you get, open the door and see what comes flying out." It took a supreme effort on my part to keep track of cats so they didn't vanish into the outside world. I have become adept at catching a cat in midair. And, I can count to six faster than any preschooler - thank you very much.
Jack and Rooney were exiled to our bedroom, but this did not sit well with Jack who interpreted every scream as a child was getting murdered. At one point, he just blew through the back door to see for himself. He took out the mini blinds on his way out. When confronted, Jack always manages a look that says, "You wanted a guard dog - well here I am. Deal with it." Rooney apparently does not take her guard dog status as seriously. She slept through most of the chaos. If I didn't know she can hear a knife slice through a piece of cheese, I would swear she was deaf.
Despite all the chaos and noise, it was all worth the effort. We have a wonderful family and those little gremlins are growing up way too fast. Although, I'm thinking we should all go to a restaurant next year. That is if this old lady recovers from this year.
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| All the kids are gone... |
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