Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.

 

      In my house it is never quiet. Something always has one of the kids screaming like they just encountered A Figure Four from Ric Flair, himself. I don't get it but honestly & secretly there are days I wish that, that wrestling move was more on the end of a Throat Chop. JUST KIDDING! I will never understand why everything has to start with chaos and I won't say end with it because here it is like a ball rolling down hill after hill never coming to rest. No. Rest. Ever. If Oakley isn't throwing things threw the air like he is trying out for a shot as the newest Mariner's Pitcher it is Lucee' screeching at the top of her lungs thinking that is the best way to get to meet Simon on America's Got Talent. * Shaking my head: I don't know? I won't even add the two newest additions being the kittens into the mix. The ones who jump on the cat tree to lunge towards the television, knocking down any and all things that cross their paths. The ones who jump on the counters and sleep in the sink but not before pulling the bathroom rug into the hallway so one of us can trip over it, laughing in cat laughs while my mind assures me that they are thinking "Humans! Ha! Got them again."

     I came across the idea to write a blog on just one of these ordinary every day days like mentioned above. Once my first letter of the word I wanted to start with was typed, I knew better. Like, what have I done? What am I thinking? Can I really do this? Should I even try to do this? Right off a chuckle formed. Can I really do this? I can do anything! The question was dropped from the equation leaving: should I even try to do this? Slapping my knee, why not? I am waist deep in concocting a "family" cook book for my kids chock full of silly recipes that for the most part ONLY we would enjoy. At the exact time I am pondering through upwards of 40,000 pictures that have been taken here & there throughout our journey. So sure, why not just add one more small thing to the mix? A daily Blog.
    As my fingers strain to spell out "things," it is hard for me to grasp if my children will ever even want to read this? If they will ever even care how they used to tie blankets around their necks & be in love with Stacy's mom? The time we were stuck at the mall because I couldn't get the key out of the cars ignition, or always being called sisters, how a blow horn pinched a doughnut or when Real Boy joined our forces? In these, I write. I write what I know. What I lived through. What I lost. What I gained and what I always want to remember.
    My Grandfather always told me to pay attention while I was growing up because someday when he was gone, I would have wished I listened more. I did listen. I just couldn't wrap my head around the thoughts of him ever not always being here. He was My Dad. My Hero. Um, where did he think he was going and why, oh why did he think he would be going without me? I was taught how to chop and stack wood so it wouldn't fall over. How to fly a kite & use a hammer, to lay bark and what every black berry species taste like from picking so many every Summer. I knew not to wash a car with windows down and learnt the phrase "What do I gotta do? Draw you a picture?" so-so many times. To many times. There were a lot of other things as well like don't empty an ashtray out of the car window going 70 mph on a freeway and Coca-Cola always tastes better out of a glass bottle. I think the one thing that stuck with me the most, carrying me through to my adult life was the love. The unconditional love that can be felt being a parent.
     My husband reads my post, my blogs also (he claims to be my biggest fan but I don't know? I kinda like myself too) commenting on one, he said how good it was and I should really turn this into a book. It is a great read. A book? A Book! Are you kidding me? Write a book now too? No. No Thank You! That isn't my intention within these endless "ditties." Reclining back, what is my intention for doing this? The answer comes easy for me. My intention for doing this is because right now, I know whole heartedly my "tribe" do not listen to anything I say or trying to share with them. I know. I know. What could I speak that would cause them any interest? I am to old school to know anything. Even with a diploma I still seem to be categorized as "simply dumb." Hope fills me that maybe someday, in someway they will want to share their life stories with their own children and maybe, just maybe by me writing this now it will help them to do just that for generations to come passing down that unconditional love that I was given that in turn I repeat giving it to them.


                                            Kazz 💋