These past few days have been trying to say the least. I love my girls with all my heart. My husband is the other half of me, for those of you who say that like I do what you don’t get is that when it’s true it means that neither one of you would probably be worth a crap if not for the other. If you don’t believe me look at really good happy couples and you’ll see what I mean. With couples like that, there is just something about them that fits together like pieces of a puzzle. These couple if separated and alone would be as lost as ‘Hogan’s goat*’ as my mom used to say. I adore those four little darlings that are my grandchildren. I’m even fond of the three young men who come with those family units most of the time. However in mass, things change. You would think that someone who grew up in a large family that often meant twenty to thirty people sitting down to Christmas dinner I would be at home in such, what to me, a small group of people. Nope.
Where when I was younger I had the patience of a saint as I’ve gotten older I’ve turned into a cranky old lady and my patience ran out a long time ago. In all honesty not all of it is my fault. I swear when one of my son-in-laws got out there playing Star Wars with my grandson and was backing away from the boy I wanted to climb under a bush. I yelled at this gentle soul playing with this child and told him to give back as good as he got. My grandson was out for blood. The gentle soul came back with I don’t want to hurt him. You’re playing with plastic light sabers there’s not much chance of hurting the kid. This went on for a short time with me trying to get the gentle soul to put some effort into his side of the battle but to no avail. At one point as the gentle soul was backing away from my grandson he honestly comes out with ‘don’t you want to read a book?’ Are you kidding me? My grandson is four. All he wants to do is beat the crap out of you and he has every intention of doing just that. At one point the gentle soul goes inside and hands me his light saber to hold while he goes to do something inside and turns just as he enters the door and yells back at my grandson to get me. That was not the thing to do.
My grandson makes his way toward me with that devilish glare in his eyes and a wicked grin on his face. I popped that light saber out and looked at the dear child and I said, ‘Sweetie you don’t want to do that, I’ll fight back and I’ll send you in the house crying. My grandson backed away. Who do you think taught the boy how to play with the darn things? I have two light sabers of my own and they are bigger and badder. You have to understand I was raised with four boys so I learned to fight back and fight back hard.
Now part of the reason I wasn’t in the mood for playtime Christmas night was because I managed to bang up my right thigh earlier in the day and then turned around and took a nose dive into my desk that ended up hitting something that managed to clock me in my left jaw, bang my right knee into something, and somehow managed to smash a couple of fingers that even now makes it hard for me to even type. The left side of my face is swollen, I have bruises on top of bruises, a knee that is screaming at the moment, so anyone wanting to go into battle with me Christmas night was not a good idea. I would have been out for blood and someone being four wouldn’t have had any effect on that. No, the whole story of me and the nose dive is for a later date.
So we finally get through all this and I’m ready for a quiet little day yesterday but at one point I needed to go to the drug store to pick up a prescription. Nothing interesting just something this old lady has to take every day and I didn’t realize I was out. I get there and find out I don’t have my wallet. This isn’t good. I was fairly sure it came up missing at my oldest daughter’s house because every time I turned around Christmas night someone else was tossing my purse to another location. I was wrong about losing my wallet there although the tossing was for real. No, somehow it ended up under my sofa. The thing is I didn’t know this at the time so I was pissed. My husband came in and after me tearing into him, no there really wasn’t a reason but you should see him if he loses his and he does it a lot more often than I do, he runs back out the door saying over his shoulder there’s nothing he can do about the situation. If he had walked back through that door after saying that I would be a widow today. I would have been in jail but I would have been a widow. Hell if anyone had come through that door after he left would probably have met the same fate as he would have.
No I’m not in the habit of losing my wallet and I’m still not real sure how it managed to get to almost the very back of the sofa but it did.
Anyway thankfully Christmas is over for another year but we’re supposed to go to yet another gathering this afternoon and I’m looking for a good reason not to go. I NEED THAT PEACEFUL DAY.
For those of you who don’t know where the phrase Hogan’s goat came from here it is thanks to;
News For Todays Senior Citizens
From October 10th, 2013
Legend has it that Hoek Hogan, a European farmer, was responsible for an incomprehensibly hideous creation. The year was 1855. Apparently, farmer Hogan had bred a goat so smelly and ugly that people remember it today, honoring the poor creature with the phrase Hogan s goat, which they use to refer to something that has been screwed up beyond all recognition. Don t touch my car s engine! You don t know what you re doing, and you will screw it up like Hogan s goat.