Dog started going crazy at about 8:30 yesterday morning. Lily was at my door, and he loves Lily. It’s pathological how much he adores her. She just laughs, but I swear she totally digs the way he’s so into her. She gives him rubs and calls him “Velvet Head.” He pants and talks and leans into her until he works his way to a lying down position at her feet. I am forgotten and ignored for the duration of her visits with us.
Anyway, Lily was all wound up. She had gotten in from a business trip to Austin the night before and gotten up before the sun to go co-host her first guest spot on a radio show. We sat out back on the deck and chatted for a few minutes to catch up. Then we downloaded the radio show from the station’s website and listened to the show while I made us peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Dog only got peanut butter on his. Lily’s really good on the radio. She sounds so cool and together on the radio. Not that I would expect anything less. She’s really good at everything.
Putzed around all day yesterday. I’m restless and feel an urgency to clean and organize and put my life in order. It feels like it’s in disarray, but I can’t pinpoint the thing that’s wrong, the hair that’s out of place, the fly in the ointment. So I’m moving from project-to-project, issue-to-issue, trying to snap into place the piece of the puzzle that will leave me with a sense of contentment. I’ve finished with all the straight-edged pieces, though, and I’ve lost the box top that shows me what the picture is supposed to look like when all the pieces are in place.
Called and left a message for my sister. Talked with my mom on the phone. Got a package from Carrie. A gift. That’s just like her to stop what she’s doing on her honeymoon to buy me a gift and overnight it to me. I’m never that thoughtful. I sent her a text to thank her. I have such great friends!
My sister called last night when I was getting in the bath, and we caught up while I shaved my legs. She’s doing really good and is coming down for Boy’s graduation next month.
These are the comments most frequently used when discussing Boy these days:
“Can you believe he’s all grown up?”
“He’s got so much confidence.”
“Where did the time go?”
“You did such a great job with him.”
My responses go something like:
“Boy raised himself. I just supervised so no one would get hurt.”
I’m far too laid back to have been an effective parent. I was too young. I was alone. I spend time with children now and think, I’m finally ready to be a parent. I’d be good at it now.
Boy and I grew up together. And it worked out. We’re fine. We made it through. But there were some times there that I wondered if either of us would make it out alive. And I feel guilty that I was less a mom than I was a co-conspirator. Now, we’re roommates. Someday we’ll be best friends. And I’m okay with that. I’m good at being a friend.