Beech Tree News Network

I awoke on Saturday past with two thoughts running through my mind.  The first was, “This is the last day of my two-week care-taking of Sabria (my granddaughter).  The second was, “My body feels like it has been beaten with a baseball bat.”  At the time, I was lying in the bed in my daughter’s room, beside Sabria.  She was still sleeping as I cast a wary eye around the room.  No baseball bat that I could see, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything.  Sabria is crafty when it comes to concealing things.  My alarm clock, brown barrette, and LED flashlight have been missing for three days, as well as a full box of Dora Fruit Snacks.  I’ve caught her trying to put things in the dirty diaper trash.  If any of those items are in there, I’m not going in after them.

It has been a challenging two weeks for my husband, Garey, and me.  My car has been at a mechanic’s shop for three weeks (an apparent electrical problem), and I’ve been driving Garey’s extended-cab, long-bed Chevy pickup.  After driving an Impala, I might as well be driving a semi.  I’m exhausted by the time I get Sabria into her car seat, get to the store, climb out, get her out, climb back in with her and the groceries, and get us back home.  Also, the control panel on the truck has a gazillion settings, which Sabria fiddles with while the truck is parked in the driveway and I’m unloading groceries.  When I got into the truck this morning, I noticed it was in four-wheel drive, the mileage reading was in kilometers, and there was a timer (which neither Garey nor I was aware existed) set for 12:15 AM.  I don’t know exactly what is going to happen at that time, but given Sabria’s penchant for chaos, the truck will probably self-destruct.

On the up-side, as a result of the two-weeks of endless activity, I’ve lost seven pounds.  She is a very busy little person, and it takes a lot of motion to keep up with her.  I’m toying with the idea of opening a new business.  It would be a combination daycare/weight-loss center.   Parents would pay for child care, and people who want to lose weight would pay to chase toddlers around and keep them out of harm’s way.  It seems like a win/win proposition.

Although it has been a challenging two weeks, Garey and I have had some touching moments with Sabria.  We’ve taken her to the garden with us several times.  Garey pulls her down the hill in her little red wagon.  Once there, she climbs from the wagon and weaves her way through the rows of beans and tomatoes.  We have page wire fences set up for the beans to climb, and she stands behind the fences, waving and yelling, “Hi!” to us then she grabs hold of the wire and shakes it for all it’s worth, testing our work, I guess. 

During the late afternoons, I take her outside to play in her small inflatable pool.  I turn on the sprinkler so she can run around under it.  When Garey arrives home after work, she is always the first one to spot him at the end of our driveway.  She climbs from the pool and runs barefoot across the gravel, screaming “BaPa! BaPa!”  (Garey has tried to teach her to say PaPa, to no avail.)  I run after her and scoop her up so I can pass her through his open window and into his lap.  She always kisses him then takes the hat from his head and puts it on her own, images that we will both carry with us forever.

Natalie arrives home on Sunday.  Mama and baby are together again.  All is as it should be.  I love my little family.  I have a plaque in my kitchen that reads: The Hughes Clan, Keeping The Fun In Dysfunctional Since 1975.  We worry and we struggle and we don’t always get along, but we pull together when it counts.