4 years ago

The Prodigal Cathmommyblogger Returns.


Hey there.
I know. I missed youse awll tew.
Prodigal, though?
Well, after I drone excessively over Bumpy Bridge in a few days, you’ll see.

We have moved. It’s done. There are still boxes all over, organization to never be completed… At one point I couldn’t find my toothbrush, but knew exactly where all coffee items were, and I had great peace over it.
So we are here, and Ma and Pa have coffee. Cue a Marley song.

Did you know that Bob Marley died a devout, practicing (Ethiopian Orthodox) Christian? Yup, after the fame and fortune, fumes and rasta mahhhhn, that’s where he went.

This gal here: Completely over-Marley’d by my classmates in art school, playing Jammin’ on a CD on repeat during studio. And Coldplay. Oh, Clocks.

So I’m dazed, exhausted, sloshing about in my coffee, slurring the line:
Ev’ry little theeng gonna be alright.

Except my hair wax melted and spilled somehow, somewhere during the moving process. Fun cleanup.

I have a post coming: introducing the new house, and that I got to halfway live out my dream of being able to consume a hot cup of tea IN bed, all cozy, like they do in the movies… For some reason, I’m thinking You’ve Got Mail, but I can’t place a scene other than Meg Ryan talking about sniffing freshly sharpened pencils.
But we cosleeep our youngest. So thar be no hot cups o’nuthin in the bed. BUT! I was able to lull Collin to sleep, tiptoe around, brew a cup of my favorite tea, and drink it, in a rocking chair, IN our bedroom.

Bumpy Bridge made no allowances for rocking chairs in the bedroom there.
Just check that off my bucket list, then!
Yes, I became a mom and Bucket List items now read as follows:

Thinking… Oh yeah! Complete full thought.

That’s about it. One day. One day, they say.

And the Bumpy Bridge House Breakup Letter! I’ve not forgot! She on deck.

But I have such an overstock of Lexington-speak, I figured I best start off there.

“It’s a stink bug”
“A stink bug?!”
“Oh. It stinks when it flies?”


“Eleven, thirteen, fourteen…”
“You skipped twelve.”
“Twelve?! I don’t like twelve. I don’t even need that number.”


“Hey look! It’s Windy the Pooh.”


*hands me plastic hamburger bun while pretending to eat his own*
“Here’s your cookie, Mom. Mm! Delicious! Nom naaaaahm nahhhglhglh– *gag-reflex-wretch*.


Me (toward the end of a particularly hellacious day): Alriiiiiight. Mom’s gonna die.
Lexington: YOU’RE GONNA DIE!?!


Lexington, (singing along to Katy Perry’s Roar): I got the eye of the tiger, the fire, dancing through fire –cause I am the chigger! And you’re gonna hear me WOAR!
Craig: Mister, it’s champion, not chigger.
Lexington: I don’t care about champions. Just chiggers.


Watching Craig make his way to the door after driving home from work: “Look Mom, here’s Dad! And look! He brought your favorite thing!”
Expecting to see a bouquet of flowers or a Starbucks, heck, even a $2 bag o’ doughnuts, I look up to see Craig carrying a dirty Tupperware container.


“So when daddy was a baby he came out of your belly–”
“No, no, no. Daddy is not my baby. He is Nene’s baby. I am daddy’s princess.”
“–his PRINCESS!? …but you don’t even look like a princess!”
“Why not?”
“Well you’re wearing old clothes.”
“Cinderella wore old clothes.”
“Well then you need a fairy godmother.”
“Well there are guardian angels which are better than fairy godmothers. I have one and his name is ________”
Long silence.
“But Mom, guardian angels are just babes with little wings. You need someone to make you a princess dress.”

I’m doing a great job at catechizing my children, no? Rooiight.
If I don’t post again before Friday, have a blessed All Saints and All Souls’ Day!


#, #