It's been a crazy and hectic time these past two weeks and I am ready for the slow down that today brought. I am home. The sun is shining. Supper is partially prepared for tonight. I need only make dear husband's lunch for tomorrow and clear dishes tonight to finish off this day of housework in my happy home.
I had a birthday this week. It wasn't one of those landmark birthdays. By my family's standards I am just over the middle aged hump and started on my journey down the other side of the hill. Age, thankfully, doesn't bother me. Given an opportunity to tell my age, I will, after quickly calculating in my head how old I am...And I do tell gladly, because thankfully, I don't look my age! I know I don't look my age because my 15yo is telling me all the time, "Mama, at least you don't look your age." My daughter is one of those frighteningly honest to the point of painful truth types. And is incredibly sensitive, a trait I've discovered a lot of these frighteningly honest people share.
It wasn't much as birthdays go. The most quiet, least celebrated birthday I've had in a long time. I hadn't bothered with the usual big buildup about it being my birthday. I had low expectations in fact, and when I'd probe a bit I found I was slightly blase about the whole deal. Until the evening of my birthday when I realized that it had been even more low key than I'd thought it might be. So the day ended with me in tears, feeling very mis-used and unloved and unappreciated and un-celebrated. When dear husband asked later why the tears, I told him. I wanted more fuss. A bit of bother. "At least we can make it up next year!" I said, which seemed to settle wrong with him, as though he were solely to blame for the low key day. He wasn't. Poor dear worked all night and all day and frankly I didn't expect much. I expected something however and he didn't deliver, but then neither did 3 out of 4 of my children, only one of my friends and my mom. I suppose it could have been worse...my mom might have forgotten as well!
We've attended two funerals since I last wrote. My ex fil died and there was the whole "I'm not a part of the family, should I or shouldn't I attend the funeral?" dilemna. Which was combined with the "Gee, I just hate to have to deal with the ex" dilemna. In the end, we did attend, as both dear husband and I liked ex fil rather well and besides there was 'the boy' as my husband refers to the 6 foot tall, 230 pound, 23yo male child. He felt we should go in support of him. And at the end, when my son was suddenly overcome and I saw my husband, whom he calls "Dad", wrap his arms around him and sob right along with him, I was glad we were there.
Then there was the funeral for my husband's boss' mom. She was a woman well loved by her family and who loved her family well. Her career was homemaking, and she did just that. She made a home and was praised high and low by all who knew her. It is the first and only funeral I've attended where a woman was praised with the words of Proverbs 31. I thought it the most loving tribute any could pay to a woman and was especially moved by it.
So this week has passed and all is well, if not all that much fun...But then there's always next week!
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