Don't bogart that baby

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While Andrea was here for the Halloween weekend, the inevitable "What are we doing for Thanksgiving?" question came up. When she asked, all I could say was, "I don't know ... I don't know ... I really don't know." I sounded like some kind of mumbling, bumbling, line-snorting idiot.

But I really don't know what we're doing for Thanksgiving. And because I'm a planner -- who usually has Thanksgiving plans set in August, who frets when life veers off the schedule I've laid out for it -- my unplanned Thanksgiving is stressing me out a bit. Okay, a lot. Unreasonably so. But I can't seem to muster the brainpower to figure out what the heck we're doing for Thanksgiving.

First of all, Brianna and Andrea both work in caretaking professions and both have folks to take care of on Thanksgiving. Andrea has a morning shift at the residential youth center, where she'll surely bring smiles to the otherwise sad faces of the adolescent girls incarcerated there. And Brianna likely -- although not yet confirmed -- has an afternoon shift drawing blood and bringing smiles to the faces of folks incarcerated in the hospital for the holiday.

Which means Thanksgiving plans will surely leave out one or the other of the girls.

And I'm not okay with that.

And I'm not okay with Megan, Preston and Bubby not being here for Thanksgiving. They're going to partake of the turkey dinner with his family. Can you believe it? I have to share my loved ones with their loved ones ... in another state!

I know I'm not supposed to bogart the baby -- or Megan and Preston -- but with the exception of the year they got married, I've not yet had to share with in-laws on Thanksgiving (Christmas is another story). And it's taking a little getting used to.

Megan has always been part of our Thanksgiving celebrations, of course. And when she and Preston started dating, he usually came home with her for the holiday breaks. The first year they were married, they chose to go it alone. Well, not totally alone; they live near Preston's grandparents and spent Thanksgiving with Grandma and Grandpa.

Then two years ago, Megan and Preston came to our new house for Thanksgiving ... and told us they were pregnant!

The following year -- last year -- they came for Thanksgiving with the little bundle of joy they'd promised us the year before.

But this year my arms will be empty. Heck, my house might be empty. And I've not yet figured out what to do about that.

So I really, really don't know what we're doing for Thanksgiving. I just know I won't be bogarting that baby. I have to share ... and I have to be nice about it.

But I don't have to be happy about it!

Stairs, stairs and more stairs

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This week marks two years since Jim and I bought the house we plan to grow old in. We love, love, love the place -- and did so from the very first moment we walked through the doors.

But when deciding to live here the rest of our days, we didn't consider how the many stairs throughout the house would affect those days. We didn't take fully into account how old age and our alphabet soup of health issues (MS for me, PN for Jim) may come into play when climbing the stairs.

And there are lots of stairs!

Stairs up to the bedrooms ...

Stairs from the family room to the kitchen ...

Stairs from the patio to the deck ...

Stairs from the backyard to the side yard ...

Stairs, stairs and more stairs! And that doesn't even include the two stairs here and the one stair there, throughout the whole darn house. There's nowhere you can go without having to climb a stair ... or two ... or ten.

BUT ... I've come up with a solution to make the stairs a little less challenging and a lot more fun. I'm going to do just what these guys have done! Take a look:

(SORRY... THIS VIDEO LOST IN BLOG MAKEOVER)

Can you just imagine the fun Bubby -- and Jim and I! -- will have bumping down all our keyboard-covered stairs on our butts!

Holiday weekend

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My daughters haven't been adults long enough for me to be so used to their overnight visits that it feels like no big deal when they come to stay the night. It still feels special, like I'm hosting a guest, not my child.

Saturday I found myself changing sheets in the guest room for Andrea, the room that was hers for the six months she lived with us in our new house before moving to the big city to live on her own. She decided to come home for the weekend -- which was a little odd considering this is my party girl and this was a major party weekend ... but I didn't ask questions, I just prepared the guest room.

As I tucked in corners and plumped the pillows, I kept thinking about how weird it was that just 20 years ago I was prepping my baby girl for Halloween with costumes and makeup and now I'm preparing for her to be a guest in my home. It made me realize that I've not yet gotten the knack of being older, of having no trick-or-treaters in residence, of my daughters being visitors.

Halloween has never been an eagerly anticipated, grand affair in our house. We enjoyed it, of course, and we participated in the decorating and parties and trick or treating. But I never felt like it was THAT big of a deal. Now with Andie coming to visit, it felt oddly like a special holiday, like now that we were all adults -- the girls and Jim and I -- our Halloweens would be celebrated differently than in the past, with more gusto, more emphasis on family than partying. (Which, again, I find a little odd since Andrea in particular is indeed a partier!).

Andie arrived with a guest for the weekend. She'd asked in advance, and I'd said yes, but it was still a little disconcerting at first to have her bring Lyla. Her new dog. My newest canine grandbaby.

My newest canine grandbaby who created quite a stir with Mickey and Hunter.

 

But they all made nice relatively quickly ...

...and took off to explore the yard together.

And we took off to the movies together -- one of our favorite family activities! -- to see "Paranormal Activity." (Which Jim and I thought was much scarier than the girls did, but we've not been desensitized by the "Saw" movies and "Hostel" and 231 remakings of "Halloween.")

Then we carved pumpkins ... outside. Which we've never, ever done. But the weather, typically snowy and cold on Halloween, was incredibly warm and perfect for pumpkin-carving on the patio.

Then we roasted pumpkin seeds and waited for trick or treaters -- that never came, despite the scary lure of our pumpkin-lit porch:

So we watched scary movies in the dark and ate the Halloween candy meant for trick-or-treaters.

Then Andie went to church with us on Sunday, which always feels special, to have one or more of our kids sitting again with us in the pews of the place we've worshipped for nearly 25 years, the place where she was baptized.

And she watched the football game with Jim and Brianna then sat outside in the sun with me. An old boyfriend of hers stopped by to visit while she was in town ... and ended up staying for Sunday dinner.

Then the weekend was over. Andie packed up Lyla, hugs were shared and she headed back to the big city. Our Halloween weekend guest was gone.

Although she's still my child, Andie was indeed my guest. And it was special. And despite having no little costumed kiddos in my house or trick-or-treaters ringing my bell, this Halloween goes down in my book as one of my favorite ever.

This post has been linked to Grandparent's Say It Saturday.