I just sat out on my front porch beneath the canopy of hanging and potted plants and watched Momma red breast watch me. She bounced around the lawn, dodging massive rain drops, coming closer to me than she ever has. I suspect those blue eggs are getting close to cracking open, we are engaged in a battle for territory now. My Nana's plant, or hers? I tried to tell her that I am no threat to her babies - I tried to talk in my most non-threatening soothing mother voice - futile attempt to comfort - She wants no part of me anywhere on my own porch near her children. I totally get it.
Yesterday Mimzy reported a close encounter, a near-bird attack, she said mother red breast flew at in her face and sqwaucked (how do you spell that?) loudly at her - I think Mimz was a little scared and also a little confused. She assured me that she won't harm the eggs, won't touch them, wants to see the babies safe and sound - she was a little bummed that Mother red breast sees her as a threat. Naturally I did what I do best and acted out a scenario for Mimz - I explained that to her, we are big scary threatening giants to that teeny little birdie and she is just doing the same thing that I would do if some Sasquatch approached my babies - war cry, you better watch yourself... She laughed at my goofiness (as did Kevin, although he would deny it) and seemed a little less emotionally scarred by the whole incident. Dr. Mimzy Doolittle was able to put the attack in context.
I hope Mother bird doesn't begin literally dive bombing in and beaking my family members - could make going in and out of the house very trying, I don't want to have to fight her for entry into my home.
Why oh why did she ever choose the porch of this whacked out family - did she not observe the constant activity, the nerf darts, hear the thud of the basketball???
Ugh Mother bird, what were you thinking?
On Sunday Matt and Bryce (neighborhood pal) were engaged in a nerf gun battle of epic proportion, they had their arsenal of weapons strapped to thighs, in waist bands, tucked in socks and were carrying what appeared to be nerf bazookas... I was in my bedroom, had just gotten out of the shower and saw a huge dart whiz by my window. Forgetting about Bryce, I ran to the door in my towel and began to scream at Matthew to not shoot darts in the front lawn anywhere near the damn nest - Poor Bryce saw me in a towel with wet Medusa hair - Poor kid is probably damaged for life. That is just a sight that needs never to be seen by such a young unspoiled child...I was just so afraid for the nest, and equally afraid that one of the kids would lose and eye to a beak strike.
In essence, I now have seven kids - my four and her three - great just great, just what I need.
Maybe this is practice for Grandmother-hood? I just gagged on my coffee...
Sigh - Heave
I should be studying - I have two really tough exams tomorrow - a cumulative psych exam and world religions.
Eastern religions are thoroughly kicking my ass because the terminology is words that are foreign to me - it was hard enough to keep the Indian words straight - but now we have moved into Dao - and really, I'll just be honest, I can't remember, let alone pronounce Chinese words. The best I can do is the one worders on the back of fortune cookie fortunes - Chinese word for cake - dan gao. Now that I know by heart...It's called priorities people.
Lost in China, I get cake - sounds perfectly reasonable to me.
Ugh.
can you tell I am avoiding the books?
Here's my deal - I just cannot do it all and I am plain whipped.
My oldest son came home at the very beginning of this semester - he is almost twenty-one. After four years with his girlfriend, they finally broke up. I won't divulge any more of his business because he is an adult and privacy matters - I will just say that it has been a difficult four months for him, me - us. The strain of family issues coupled with five pretty demanding classes has left me at this point, running on fumes from the reserve tank.
I want to do well, but I just don't have the energy to fight for it. Four kids, 25 hours a week in retail and five college classes could seriously just about kill an old girl.
What really screwed me up - was my Nana informing me that Papa graduated with a 4.0 GPA. This was an off the cuff Nana reveal. I was home for his funeral services (just about end of semester last year) - she asked how school was going, I told her about my GPA and she unknowingly put me in the pressure cooker of my own stupid head - Papa, he was just so smart - like brilliant smart - he knew a lot about most everything...Top of his class 4.0 GPA, ugh.
I want to make him proud of his Pumpkin, and so now I strive for all A's and pretty much gut myself in the process.
I am smart sure, but smart in some ways, completely moronic in others. Some things actually take a lot of effort and I am tapped in the effort department.
So what to do, what to do?
Part of me just wants to accept that perfection just isn't my gig - hello beautiful mess...Part of me wants to give in and just be average and have that be okay - cause after all average under my circumstances, that is a feat.
But....I am a scrapper by nature and getting gritty is what I do.
Today - I wait to see what side of me will prevail.
I will say, I ache. My body is stiff and sore, my head feels foggy and my eyes have sunk into my skull and swim in pools of liquefied brain matter - I feel like the contents of my cranium have been blenerized...I am beat.
If I do nothing at all today, I may come away tomorrow with grades just below the 90 mark, this equals B's...
Per my calculations, I am teetering on the A/B line in Geography, Psych and maybe religion - possibly English too which is totally my fault - I didn't cite enough sources on my Sula paper - totally couldn't find anything that pertained grrr.
B's are okay right? Or, do I duke it out and go for the glory?
B's are okay right???
I am trying to look at the totality of my accomplishments - Oh my God I am such a freak - I feel motivation creeping up as I type these words of resignation... But really, B's are okay right???
Maybe I should force myself not study and get the B's and just get imperfection over with so that I can stop fighting with myself - part of me really thinks that is the ticket.
Remember Deb, you are not out to prove anything - you are out to live.
I think I will go consult Mother red breast - maybe she'll poke my eye out and give me a reason not to read....
later taters - peace
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