For those of you who don't follow me on all the socials or aren't related to us, "A" is officially living his dream! He's been hired to fly commercially for Republic Airlines! We are so proud of him we could just burst. It's been weeks of him locking himself in our bedroom studying a poster that looks like a replica of the control panel in a plane. It's been me quizzing him on emergency situations and the protocol, quizzing him on the millions of acronyms he has to memorize, etc. His first leg of training included a 2 week stint at his home base in Indianapolis. That wasn't terrible because Mason was at his biological dad's for summer. I got a LOT done at that time! Tons of signs, some acrylic pours, all kinds of fun!
Mason passed out in the back seat. This child hasn't taken a nap since the hellish summer before Kindergarten that I had to break him of nap time just so he could endure a full day at school. After the orchard yesterday, I knew by this child's attitude that he was tired. You know the one, it's a lot like mine is on the daily but you know, more dramatic and a lot more sarcastic. Love the sarcasm, not in the rude, I want to slap your face off your head kind of way. So he laid down...many tears, many cuss words under my breath, many looks of pure disgust from him, and finally a sleep meditation playing on the phone and he was out. He woke up briefly to inform me that I was torturing him and went back to sleep. 8 is such a sweet and enjoyable age. Almost as much as the large selections of wine I'm trying during this age. 3 and a half hour nap yesterday and passing out in the back seat while running errands today...this isn't a good sign.
Then "A", came home for 2 weeks, Mason came home to finish summer and go on some adventures here (I'll post more on that later), and start school. Then "A" started his next level of training. Another stretch that's anywhere from 21-25 days. I don't know what the next step in his dream journey is because it changes every time I ask and I'm basically just living my own dream here as well. The first day we dropped him off at the airport and headed to the orchard to go peach pickin!
We were all kinds of excited to make gluten free peach donuts and peach pie and all things peach! A few peaches we picked needed to ripen up a bit so we were going to do most of that on day 2. As luck would have it, Mason's little body had other plans. After we delivered a coffee bar I made,
We weren't home 30 minutes and he got sick and has a migraine, probably from not wearing his glasses that I have asked no less than 6 trillion times to be relocated from the floor to his face this whole summer, probably from not drinking enough water that I keep kindly placing in front of him, probably from not listening to his MOTHER! Mothers roll our eyes in the back of our heads so far we can see our spine only because of crap like this. I feel bad for the little guy for getting sick but honestly, I feel bad for ME more. ME! I don't do puke ya'll!! I don't do it so much that I once called "A" in the dead of night from here when he was still stuck in Egypt crying like a 3 year old who in fact did NOT get the pony requested for her birthday present. Did I actually think he could do anything about it? No. Did I know deep down that as bad as I cried "But I don't want to!" I was going to have to clean it up? Yes. Did I secretly call just because I knew he was going to give me the pump up speech I needed to get the job done like I was about to do the headlining half-time show at the Superbowl? Uh. Yeah. Unapologetically, I sure did.
Lucky for me, my kid is now 3 years older and can most of the time make it to the bathroom on his own but I know it's coming when he yells "Can you come rub my back?!" In case you ever wanted to know what it's like in my head - there is a melodrama that ensues for a good 40 seconds because that's all I've got before I head into the bathroom to read some Harry Potter and rub a back like Ms. masseuse June Effing Cleaver... F@(K!!! And more eye rolling, and more pump up speeches- Tony Robbins is telling me I CAN DO ANYTHING! I am successful! Rachel Hollis is telling me that I am made for MORE and that nobody gets to tell me my dream of being a mother is too small! This is just part of it! Nike is telling me to Just Do It! Rocky is helping me jump around and warm up those muscles. Eminem is rapping "knees weak, palms are sweaty" bc I know I'm about to see...
Anyway...the point is...Day 1 was greater than great. Day 2 of the crisis situation is handled because at this point I'm basically the equivalent of a slightly more frazzled and unshowered but nonetheless powerful Gal Gadot in Wonder Woman!
And yet, as I'm looking around...Day 3 may be the same as today because in a great attempt at keeping this blog SUPER real with ya'll and not at all sugarcoated like most of the social posts you read all day, I'ma tell ya- day 3 may include burning this Shiz to the ground and starting over. That's about the level we are at after packing for 3 weeks, meals prepped, peaches everywhere and a sick kid. Forget Gal. You can go ahead and picture that crying 3 year old without her pony again. It's applicable.
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