The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. And Turkeys.

1.  After Marley's bath the other night, we were talking about the time that her cousin Riley slept over.  Even though it happened a while ago, she still remembers it clearly.  She's also pretty clear about the return invitation.  So I was telling her that I'd ask my sister Heather about a good time for Bean to spend the night.

"Won't it be so silly?" I asked Marley.  "You'll wake up and say, 'Good morning, Owen.'"

Marley giggled.

"And Michael will be there.  And Heather," I added.

She paused.  

"Will you be there, Mommy?"

When I told her no, her eyes got wide and she caught her breath.  She teared up, looking nervous, and whimpered, "But I will miss you so much!"

Then I teared up and held out my arms.  We hugged for a while and she murmured, "That will be hard for me."  I explained that sleeping over Riley's house would be like an adventure, and that if she really didn't like it, Mommy or Daddy would come bring her home, no matter how late it was.

It was pretty much the most precious thing ever.  So, Good.

2.  Todd and I have two baby monitors blasting in our room each night.  One for Bean on the nightstand, and one for Toot on the windowsill.  (Sometime this fall, they're going to share Marley's room, and Rudy's nursery will be a place for quiet play and work.  It was an office before, actually, and when I told Marley that we'd move the bookcases and reading chairs in there, so it would be like our own library, she actually hopped up and down and squealed, "I can't wait!"  I love that kid.  A nerdy bookworm after my own heart, and she can't even read yet.)

Anyhow, when the wind blew Rudy's monitor off the windowsill late one night and it crashed onto the floor, I woke up while springing forward from the hips and grabbed Todd's leg.  My heart was racing, and it took me about ten minutes of slow breathing to settle and fall back asleep.  This, of course, was my reaction a week or so after some adolescent douchebags slammed our front door off its frame and shattered our picture window with a hefty rock.  We're still getting everything fixed, and the high school's resource officer is still on the case, and I'm still pissed that on a sunny spring day, I can't open my front door and my living room is a gloomy, taped-up cave.  Bad.

3.  Yesterday, I picked up my mom, who has early onset Alzheimer's, from what is basically, her day care.  I was going to have her over for pizza while Todd was teaching an evening class, and I had a few errands to run on our way home.  In fact, I saved these errands for the ride home because I figured they'd go faster if I left my mom in the car with the kids so I could go into stores without lugging Rudy and Marley along.  I ran into a grocery store for milk and the pizza place for a large, garlicky bruschetta.  Then I went to a local liquor store to buy Todd a bottle of top shelf scotch.  Next year he's taking a professional leave from the classroom, and will be filling an administrative position in our district.  It's not like administrators make top shelf salaries, but it's still a step up, and I wanted to congratulate him since he had just completed the formality of the interview.  I'm a pretty great wife sometimes.

When I got out of the store, my mom was outside the car, and she told me, "I'm locked out."  It was a this can't be happening sort of moment.  

Now, Heather and I had just been talking about whether it was smart to leave our mom in the car with our kids.  She has Alzheimer's, but she's still pretty together.  In fact, what's so frustrating about her condition is that she's still fairly lucid in the moment.  She just forgets things minutes after they happen.  So, she's shocked and offended and angry whenever we monitor her or speak on her behalf because she understands enough to understand she can't take care of herself anymore.  And so we spend our days on the surface of things, which is actually the way we've always been.  Anyhow, when I ran into the grocery store, I took the keys with me, but then I actually left them in the ignition (with the car off) at the pizza place because I was wondering how demeaning it was to have taken them earlier.  And I left them in the ignition at the liquor store, too.  Also, I ran into all of these places with only my wallet.  Because I was being so quick and efficient, you see.

Eventually, an actual fire engine came to a LIQUOR STORE to unlock my car, where Rudy was screaming and hiccuping and Marley was worried and weepy in the back seat.  My mom was pacing behind me, peering over my shoulder saying things like, "Oh, poor Rudy," and I was taking deliberate, slow, deep breaths.

I did not bring my mom home for pizza.  I brought her back to my sister's house, and as we drove up the street, Marley wondered out loud, "Why isn't Mom-Mom coming to our house?  I thought she was gonna have pizza with us!"  I tried a breezy, "Oh, that's okay.  We'll do it another day."  I was too mad to sit with my mom and talk about nothing, after a fire fighter took down my name and address while I rocked a still-hiccuping Rudy and smoothed Marley's hair.  I was mad at my mom, even though I knew it was an accident and could've happened to anyone.  And I was mad at myself, because I shouldn't have left them with her.  And I was just mad, because, really, at this point, I no longer have a mom.  That sounds Ugly, I know.  But from where I stand now, and after what my sisters and I have been dealing with for the past couple of years, it's true.

4.  I don't want to end all gloomily.  Here's Marley in a temporary, under-the-table fort, caring for her turkeys.  I believe she's brushing their glorious feathers.