Ponchos Save Family from Fashion Crime

A Post in Many Parts


Part The First - Fashion Victims Identified

     Sarah has a thriving in-house newspaper that she publishes on a somewhat regular basis.  She always has a page or two of news stories, followed by several pages of what I like to call "do it yourself journalism". There's the ever-popular "Create A Poem Page" and the always fun "Make Up Your Own Word Search". Tonight's news headline reads "Ponchos Save Family from Fashion Crime." And in case it isn't clear which family she's talking about, the first line of her front-page article is "Ponchos save fashion crime victims at [our home address] and Fashion Designer SG sat down with us to tell us what happened." 

Part The Second - Like Godzilla, Only Bigger

     There was a time not so very long ago that I was able to sit down and write on a fairly regular basis. That was nice. I miss that. I still think about writing a lot, although by the time I get home at night and catch up with my oldest child and talk to my husband and investigate what else Jack the Dog has decided to steal from the trash and ultimately hoard in his corner of the laundry room, I'm too tired to write. Also, whatever it was that I thought I might want to write about has disappeared in a fog of exhaustion.  I blame this, mostly, on the ever increasing volume of time that my youngest child spends at gymnastics (and the correlative volume of time I spend making that happen). Gymnastics - it's a trap.

Part The Third -  He Was Born That Way

     I received a phone call today from one of Owen's teachers.  She wanted to tell me what a great kid Owen is and went on to compliment him on his empathetic nature.  I've often joked that having two children who approach life so differently has led me to the understanding that I can never take blame for their mistakes . . . or credit for their successes.  Owen is who he is and has been since the day he was born.  

Part The Third - No Sibling for You

     For many years, my mom and her sisters had a system in place where they took turns calling my grandmother on a daily basis to make sure she was alright. It was a great idea (the daily phone call check) and it's one that I tried to implement with my own parents.  Here's where being an only child becomes somewhat of a liability though - there are only so many days in a row that I can call my dad before he starts to question why I'm calling so often and then gets irritated at me because I'm treating him like (I want to say "child" but let's go with) not an adult. So then I make Joel call.   It's only now that I'm beginning to think that having a sibling or two to help out with the daily dialing might not be such a bad idea.  

Part The Fourth - My Dog is Sad

     Joel is out of town this week and Jack the Dog is sad.  He's in the laundry room, watching for Joel's car to pull into the driveway.  Watching him watch for Joel to return used to break my heart.  Not so much anymore.  I just want to tell him "Hey dog, get over yourself - we all got troubles. For example, some of us very recently found out that we've been walking around as Fashion Victims." 

Part The Fifth - Five Years and Counting

     Ponchos and parents and gymnastics aside, it's been a rough couple of months.  Somewhere in late July the awareness that the fifth anniversary of my Grandmother's death and the fifth anniversary of my mother-in-law's death were approaching left me at loose ends - for lack of a better phrase.  I miss them both.  I miss the life I had when they were still here. Life now is good, but seems smaller - less. That may not make much sense, I really don't have a great way to describe it.  Grieving is hard.

Part The Sixth - A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

They're happy. I'm happy. It's a simple formula, really.