The pidglets are with their dad this week. He's had some business trips here and there and I've been graced with their beautimous presence for about 3 weeks. No complaints here...
Now, with them gone it leaves a little time for cleaning and crocheting and just enough quiet to make me miss the loud laughs, screaming for food and hollering for an appreciative witness to some Minecraft creation.
The pidglets got picked up at 12:45 Sunday and were whisked away. However, strangely, by 1:15 I received a text and it seems Lil Red was being a very bad girl.
Now, without going into the details and please remember there are two sides to this. One I lived with for 12 years, the other I've lived with for 17... weird right? And often collision is due to the two that are in the same vicinity. So, it seemed the only option was to send said red-head back to her mother's house. What?! Give her back to me? What did I do?
Ha! It doesn't matter what they have done, it really doesn't, I will always take them back. Keeping her separate at times might be the best so she can get more rest, do what she wants to do and clear her mind of all that is boggling her.
So I spoke with her dad, told him I agreed and giggled when I got off the phone. Here was my exact profound thought: "Holy crud, he's throwing her in the briar patch."
For those of you who aren't 100 years old like me, here's the reference from the folktale I grew up on.
When she came in she was crying so I told her she needed to repent and we prayed... ever so hard, until the sun shone upon our faces. Huh? Yah, that's photo shopped sun, whateves...
Then I made her read "The Miracle of Forgiveness" for good measure...
Please note, my book is a picture book. It's easier for me to understand that way.
Then.... I made her scrub the baseboards with bleach and a toothbrush just so she would remember why no one wants to be sent back to mom's house.
Okay fine, I scrubbed the baseboards with bleach and a toothbrush, but I've got a whole 'nother set of issues that can only be solved by cleaning and mowing grass... and crocheting. But she's so precious just to look at and pretend, if only for a moment, she does chores.
sigh. This is what really happened.
When she came in she was crying. She burst out, "I don't want to talk about it!" and ran to her room. I popped my head in her door and said, "I don't want to talk about anything but when you're ready to each junk food and just hang out, I'll be in the craft room."
It wasn't very long until she joined me and we talked... about nothing.... and everything. It is what it is and certain things like, being a teenager for example, just can't be solved right now. Hormones, stress, school, moms and dads, finding the perfect set of flats, boys who don't like you and boys who do, friends that are and friends that aren't, eventually works itself out.
And I just happen to have all of the time in the world.
Until she grows up and leaves me. sniff. Let's not ruin the moment.
Love this kid and holy crap is she full of amazing potential. I see it every day in my pidglets. One day, when they're done raising their mother, we'll look back on these times and giggle over junk food, because some things will never change.