Lorri Cardwell-Casey's blog

And now…the rest of the, um, backstory…

July 14th, 2010

With acknowledgements to the late and great Paul Harvey for my adaption of his famous line, did you read my entry yesterday, “The Juggle”? If you did, first of all, thank you. Someone read it!

Second, for those of you who didn’t, the topic was how to handle parenting and writing, at the same time, I felt I should add a few events going on at the Casey Three-Ring Circus while I worked on that. That morning, Meredith went to a state honors choir practice (bragtime:  she’s one of 13 kids from our town and 140 kids statewide chosen to perform together next week). My husband-in-shining-armor drove her there and went to pick her up. He called home, asking if Meredith’s friend could come home with her. I wanted to shriek–OK, OK, so I really did shriek–”Today? Why today? I am trying to write! I have a hair appointment! You’re in the middle of remodeling a bathroom! I’m in the middle of major closet-sorting! We’re trying to prep the house to list for sale and, once again, totally upend our lives and move to a totally different state and have to start totally all over again! Today? Is she crazy?”

My hubby quietly agreed it wasn’t the best timing. I caught a breath and hissed into the phone, “OK, well, tell her Sara can come over. It’s fine.”

My hubby added, “And Sara wants Meredith to go to Bible school with her tonight.”

The shrieking erupted again. “But that means her parents will come in, and I have closet stuff piled up to sort! And they only have one child!”

That time, I heard how ridiculous I sounded. We hung up. I rushed around, tidying up a little bit and decided, hey, Sara’s 11. They can entertain themselves. Her mom’s been here before, when my house looked normal. Really, Lorri, what’s the big deal?

They arrived. Mike headed back to the bathroom. The whining of the tile saw started back up, like a weed-whacker trying to gobble down our bathroom walls up there. The girls giggled their way through my office, with Max, our six-year-old in hot pursuit, like a happy puppy. The kids went outside, came inside. And so on. Slam! Door. Slam! Door again. “Meredith! Get in or get out!”

They wanted to swim. They swam. They wanted to play video games. They played. I offered food. They said they’d eat when they felt hungry, but they weren’t hungry. I left for my hair appointment. They survived.

I wrote off and on the rest of the day, in between loads of laundry and sorting more closet stuff. I suddenly looked up and realized it was a little over an hour until the girls needed to be at Bible school. They needed showers. They needed to eat. I realized they couldn’t use Meredith’s normal bathroom for their showers, because that’s where my hubby was tiling away. “Sara! Do you like macaroni and cheese?” I started the oven, grabbed a pot to boil water, flinging out baking pans and baking spray and two bags of chicken strips and a skillet and cans of green beans. I cooked up some macaroni shells-n-cheese, chicken strips, and green beans, watching the clock and rushing the girls, then, while continuing to stir and sweat and check timers, teaching Max how to set the plates, silverware, glasses, and napkins at the bar, answering his 400 questions, not including “Why?”

Then we joined hands, Max said a quick prayer, and we gobbled up a surprisingly yummy supper. I opened an extra toothbrush for Sara and brushed my own teeth, freshened up my make-up and hair, and drove the girls to Bible school, actually enjoying registration, because I talked to several friends and found myself leaving with a smile.

I took a big breath, read the newspaper, listened to the tile saw still whining away, thanked my lucky stars that Max loved at least one quiet activity (word find books), and hurried to the door just after 8:00 p.m. when Sara’s dad brought Meredith home.

And get this:  he handed me a heavy paper grocery bag, full of fresh cucumbers and squash from their garden.

Sara can come back–anytime!

Entry Filed under: Uncategorized