The kids used to have parties at 11 am. Because then we'd be all done in time for nap.
The kids are having parties at 8pm now. And I have to ask them to turn down the music at 1 am because the neighbors man
I open the back fridge and there are jello shots in there and it smells like my mom's fridge when I was 20. It smells like the beginning of my little brother's alcoholism. Those were good times though. You know? Those were times I can appreciate because my mom just did everything unapologetically all wrong. I learned how to be a mom by opening that fridge and having that time back then and leaving it there. Smells make you think things are worse than they are. They shrink you backwards and you have to wait for it to pass like a huge ocean wave and then you bob back up and say oh wait it's okay. It's all smooth here.
It's just a memory.
I see my daughter working hard though to make it nice for people. For this party. She worries about how people feel. She checks on me. I should have told her last night go and have a good time. Fuck worrying about anyone. That's why you needed this party to stop everything for a minute. She works hard. She needs some time off and love. I hope she finds some good arms to squeeze her. She's got everything anyone could ever want. She's got a full heart.
B and I went to a movie and let the kids have the house so they could act like normal kids in their 20s for a second. It's funny when we come back and stand in the doorway looking out at a busting patio that has become our party house now briefly and really we just look. All the kids are so big and they're happy, it looks like. They're growing into real people who can take care of themselves, even Dylan. We hadn't seen Dylan since he punched Nathan in the face and broke a bone in his eye. Now he shows up in our backyard looking like Jesus and still calls us mom and dad. He once threw a dart and it missed the dartboard and shattered the glass door for $600 dollars. $600 dollars and a broken eye, and holding his arms out for a hug now, sure you little rascal, get in here.
He could run, man. He was a hurdler in high school. He was really talented. He needs some dental work. His gramma died yesterday. The ocean washed him ashore, okay, grab his arms, at least for a ten minute conversation.
These parties are easier cause there's no food. The chickens are out there now in the morning aftermath, they're like dudes all that noise and there's ABSOLUTELY NOTHING here on the ground. The kids cleaned up everything. It looks vacuumed out there.
I wish I didn't get overwhelmed but when I start cleaning I have to do everything. Why do a little when you see a mess everywhere. I was sweating like in the movies, where it drips off the runner at the end of a marathon. Emma was worried I would hate her but really, stuff needed to be cleaned. It's okay. I want the kids to have what they need and I want them to be home and happy. I love them at every age. Even dumbass Dylan and dumber ass Rayleen. These poor kids with no education and a handful of skills, and they're spilling it all like grabbing dry sand. My kids are so flush. Their handfuls are solid clay.
I did that. I cleaned the toilet sweating washed rugs vacuumed mopped then stood in the doorway and listened to the music and saw kids laughing.
It's all one thing.
