STARTING 4/8/17: Six Word Saturday is now being hosted by the lovely Debbie at Travel With Intent. If you aren't already following Debbie, please visit her blog for Six Word Saturday and her beautiful photos. I'll continue to participate from time to time but please go to Debbie's for the official posts.
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Sunday, June 14, 2009
It's blissfully quiet here. And clean. And organized. My mind seems to be slowing from the breakneck pace it kept all week.
I miss the hell out of my nephew though. His goofy smile. His smooshy face. His smooth cool baby skin. Oh, that giggle. Even the shrieks.
After holding it together all week (except for the part where I broke the baby), I returned home and promptly broke down. Sobs and sadness for missing Collin, strained relationships, choices people have made that make their lives so unnecessarily difficult. I wish I lived closer. I wish I lived further away. I want to visit more often but also not at all. I'm sad to think of what I've missed of Collin's last 14 months, miserable about what I'll miss before I see him again, grateful for what I experienced this week and yet wishing I hadn't seen him at all to put these thoughts in motion.
Other than a couple of comments asking about my plans for children, the week was rather non-confrontational. Still my mother is just LOUD. Collin's brand of loud is forgivable at fourteen months. My mother, at 55, is old enough to understand about an inside voice.
As always, I ended up feeling bad for my father. Sunday night, the guys tried to grill chicken on the charcoal grill from hell. Only, if it had been from hell it would've actually retained heat. It took forever and even then some of the pieces weren't cooked through. And Dad felt bad about it. And my mother went on and on about it in a way that made him feel worse. Yesterday, he wanted to eat at Waffle House on the way home. So after over an hour of driving, we reached Waffle House, everyone expressing their starvation on the way in, only to find it completely crammed. He decided to just go to McDonalds instead so they could get on the road. And Dad felt bad about it. And my mother went on and on about it in a way that made him feel worse. I could cite another twenty examples exactly like that. And when Dad feels bad, I feel bad. And when Mom makes him feel worse, I want to punch her in the face.
There was a lot of good in the trip. I plan to recount some of that in future posts. I've probably got a couple of not-so-good things I'll babble about as well. Hopefully in a more entertaining organized fashion.