Fun Friday: A Poem about The Hubby

My children and I often "write" orally--telling stories and inventing all sorts of verses aloud. I wonder at times whether I'm raising them to be writers or just nerds... perhaps both.

Anyway, in the car on the way home from school, we started discussing how people lose their hearing, eyesight, etc., and we all three realized that their beloved father was nearly deaf in one ear, nearly blind in one eye, had issues with one foot, etc. Thus, this poem was born:

Half of Our Dad is Falling Apart

We know that our father looks quite normal to you

His clothes are all neat, and his hair tidy, too,

But his looks are skin deep, his appearance deceiving,

For half of his body is planning on leaving.

While one of his eyes keeps on dutifully looking,

The other is blurring and swirling, and lurking

Inside it are dark spots and pressure abounding; 

Its lazy reluctance is truly astounding.

But that isn't all, for his ears are the same

One is still sharp, but the other is lame

From too many KISS concerts or some other reason

It's left off its senses, gone deaf, bent on treason.

His leg is bum, too, for its knee doesn't work

Locking his hip bone and moving with jerks

And shooting some pain further down to his heel

Which also rebels, going rigid as steel.

One hand is all crampy, its thumbnail is sore,

Its knuckles all puffy, its fingertips four

Either move with some effort or don't move at all

Or ache from his pushups or bouncing a ball.

One nostril works great, while the other is plugged

One shoulder is fine, but one numb and drugged,

One side of his back creaks and groans as he walks,

One side of his lips won't help out when he talks. 

So do not be fooled by this man from the start

For one half of our dad is all falling apart.

Got any body parts that are rebelling at this point? Any of this strike a chord? My students are all in their late teens, but even they claim to have body parts that have stopped working...

Have a great Friday, everyone, and enjoy your weekend!

Early Morning Rant

I'm still working on the backsplash. I designed it perfectly, so that I pretty much have to cut every single tile at least once. Brilliant. Several days' more work to go before I'm done, I fear.

Even worse, I woke at 3:30 a.m. with a horrid Christmas song running through my head, along with the steps from Zumba running through my legs. And calluses everywhere. Some from yard work, most from doing the %&#$! backsplash. I tried to go back to sleep. But no, it wasn't going to happen. So I got up, wrote a little, read a little, and tinkered.

I'm just starting to get tired again, as I hear little kids stirring in the bedrooms above me. This is going to be a very long day.

At least, at the end of it, the hubby will be home. For that, I am truly grateful.

Progress

I am still sitting in my hotel room as I write this, so some things in my life are not progressing.

However, for the things within my control, I'm doing pretty well. And I am not alone.

My daughter, famed socialite that she is, already has about a dozen friends at her new school. She climbs in the car at the end of the day with a new Georgia accent, too, slipping out of it only after several hours with us (and it is SOOO cute!).

My son has progressed from "needs work"--a kind way to say he's acting like a complete brat at school--to "Good"--a kind way of saying he is working harder and isn't quite so annoying. Even better, he's waking up with a smile and looking forward to school. They both checked out their first library books at school yesterday, and I had to pry these books out of their hands to get them to do anything this morning. Definite progress.

My husband has progressed a great deal over the last month, too, from not enjoying his job a whole lot to LOVING his (new) job. He comes home with a smile on his face every day, and our interactions with the community so far have made him pretty much decide he's the luckiest person on the face of the planet.

And even though I am not out of the hotel room yet, and we overheated the microwave cooking dinner a few nights ago (manicotti tastes almost as good when it isn't quite warm), I am still writing. No, that's not right. I'm finally writing again. Over the last three days I have edited through 180 pages of my novel, and now I'm perhaps 6 chapters from finishing the new version entirely. After not writing on any novel since before Thanksgiving, I am quivering with happiness to be doing what I love most.

Can you feel it? Can you feel the quivering? It's called progress.

The Race

[In honor of my husband, who is in a triathlon this morning]

Some come to vie

To see the finish line

To sail past the

Lesser athletes

To win

Finishing second

Means crushing defeat

The medal is all

Others need to feel

They are not alone

To sense the splash of water

The cheers

The breaths

All around

To feel the fingers

Brushing shoulders

Patting backs

See the rows of bikes

Waiting

To hear the laughs as others

Struggle on

To see those both ahead and behind

To be part of the pack

Validated

But happiest are those

In it only for the

Moment

Not the end

Not the others

But the feel of water on their skin

The rush of wind

As they pedal downhill

The ache of use

From their legs

As they run the race

To them, the end is nothing

All is in the now.

Fabulous Hubby Friday

I made a HUGE list last time, and believe me, since then I've come up with all sorts of other activities to do. I could list them, but I think my sister would die of apoplexy if she read it (and she is nearly always my first reader). 

Instead, I'll talk about my hubby. It's his birthday, so his mom's coming up for the weekend to celebrate, go to a Jazz Walk, etc. I'm glad because she and I are his biggest fans in the whole wide world, so we get to spend time talking about how great he is. Now, I'm sure I've let on when he's annoying at times, but these are a few of the reasons I find him fabulous (and if you are already gagging, feel free to read some other blog today):

1.  He started dating me when I wore huge glasses, big and sloppy t-shirts, and ugly jeans every single day--and he wondered whether I was out of his league. He thought I was so cute even when I didn't think I was.

2.  My parents treated him like a mold growing on their couch, yet he kept coming back for a YEAR, until I moved out of my parent's house to end the torture.

3.  He left his strict religion, believing he'd be condemned to hell if he did, but deciding that, and I quote, "Fifty years with you are worth an eternity in heaven." (How can I not love that?)

4.  When my first C-section became infected and the doctors had to undo ALL the stitching, my husband cleaned my wound three times a day, even stuffing gauze into it as far as it would go, for eight weeks until it fully healed. Each day he'd say, "Look, honey, my fingers only go in this deep today!" 

5.  The most important one? He has, for nearly 20 years, kept his cool when I have flipped out--even at him--not returning snit for snit--and that has allowed me to cool down far faster than if he had snapped back at me. He remains the most cool-headed person I have ever met, and I hope to keep learning patience, persistence, and compassion from him. 

So, happy birthday, Richard! I'd tell him in person right now, but he's out golfing right now--and that's a beautiful thing. I hope he has a wonderful time!