Sleep is overrated

It’s 3:45 in the morning and I can’t sleep.

Most of the time the reason I can’t sleep is because my mind is overcome with concern over our grandLittle Wren’s illness, other family needs, finances, and the fact that right now, Ninja Man and I are living in two different cities until his retirement is a reality.

But tonight it’s different.

I’m excited.

I didn’t know I was excited until I had spent maybe an hour lying there, wondering why I couldn’t sleep. I tossed. I turned. I prayed for people. I thought about reading, but Ninja Man was snoring beside me and the light might wake him.

I finally slipped out and, followed by the dog who never leaves my side, I quietly closed the bedroom door and walked into the kitchen.

That’s it.

My kitchen was becoming familiar.

There was the salt and pepper shakers I’ve had for years, right by the stove where they belong. Close by, my cooking utensils filled a decorative jar. The dishwasher, full of favorite dishes, waited to be emptied.

There’s a lamp softly glowing in the living room. Ninja Man installed those energy efficient light bulbs in everything so the lamp can stay on for ages and barely click our meter. I love seeing its gentle light as it stands sentry in an otherwise dark room, illuminating a small collection of photos of Ninja Man and me.

Until recently, this “new” home has been sparsely furnished with items we have been given or had to purchase. Until yesterday I’ve had disposable cups and paper plates. Even the sofa, love seat and recliner are some we purchased from a yard sale.

All of this because everything we own has been in storage. Most of it still is.

I’m not nearly as materialistic as this may read, but I do enjoy some of the familiar things that have made our house a home for many years.

This has been an expensive and exhausting time in our lives and it isn’t over yet. We really can’t afford the huge moving van so almost every weekend Ninja Man arrives in his pickup truck, loaded with as much as he could haul from one of our storage units. We will do it this way until we get it down to U-Haul size. Meanwhile, he has been awesome by bringing as much of my crafting and sewing supplies as possible, and my studio is coming together really well. But the stuff he brought this week was special.

There was a box marked “favorite everyday dishes” and yes, they are. Another held daily silverware, something I’ve missed quite a lot. Others held my mixing bowls, a toaster oven, dish towels and many things I “need” in my kitchen. I unloaded several of these boxes and filled the dishwasher. It was running late into the evening.

It wasn’t anxiousness or worry this time. I couldn’t sleep because I’m so happy my house is becoming our home. It’s almost like Christmas, and Ninja Man has to many more trips to make before everything finds its way here.

But for now I’ll enjoy what we have. Oh, and dream about the fact that the Emotional Baggage Room will have a floor by the time Ninja Man leaves on Sunday! This is huge, y’all. It’s a game changer. More on that later!

Y’all be blessed, keep up the prayers for baby Wren, and know I appreciate each of you!

Kathy Bo

 

 

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Wash day = every day

If cottons and polyester blends could ever get confused, my laundry would be the first in line.

For the last 12 months, I’ve washed clothes in the weirdest places, with only ONE pleasant experience.

Y’all. I’m not a high maintenance girl. Really. I’m not. My laundry consists of t-shirts and leggings (yes, I’m 58 years old and I wear them. I am sure it’s a gift from the former me who HAD to wear panty hose in the summer in the 1970’s. WHO would refuse such a gift? Not me!)

Other clothing in my laundry are chemo week gear. Let me tell you about that.

Our grandLittle Wren was diagnosed with neuroblastoma in February 2016 at the age of 16 months. In order to help support our daughter and her family, my husband and I went into a phase of life that meant many changes.

We rented out our home, stored ALL THE THINGS and lived in our RV, 3 hours away from daughter, until Six Little Acres, which is just minutes from daughter, was livable.

Believe it or not, I kept that part right there pretty simple.

For more than a year, I traveled from the RV to daughter, picked her and baby up, and off we went to Atlanta for treatment.

We did this every 14 days.

Let me say now that our grandLittle is doing so much better! She still needs prayer and there’s more treatment ahead, but we believe the worst is behind us. Praise God!

So back to the laundry. I was doing laundry at the Ronald McDonald House. Now that really was the best experience of all the laundryness that I had to do. But we didn’t always get a place at the Ronald McDonald House. Sometimes it was an outdoor washer and dryer in a downtown Atlanta motel and it was very creepy and scary. Sometimes it was the camp ground and other public laundromats. Either way, where ever we went it was easily $12-$30 just to do laundry. I had to get my clothing down to a minimum. I needed low maintenance clothes.

Changing my look was all very appropriate, considering the fact that in no time, I had become a hot mess. My long brown (colored) hair had several inches of grey roots. All that long hair was piled on top of my head because the heat coming off of my body was enough to make me break out into a sweat for no reason whatsoever. I was miserable.

Ain’t nobody got time for that. The hair got cut and not kidding, this is me:
Short, grey hair DON’T CARE. And that’s not all: There’s been NO makeup for over a year. I wore it twice and cried it off both times.

Baby cancer will do that to you.

Ok, so very soon into this experience, I realized my clothes were not sufficient for doing things such as helping a wee one battle cancer. I needed things that did not snap or buckle or zip. Pretty much what I needed was pull ’em up, pull ’em over, and GO. And I needed big shirts to hang over everything just in case “stuff” started falling out because I didn’t get them pulled all the way up before the toddler was climbing on me to get out of there! She was always very eager to leave infusion-as we all were. I carried her most of the time and I was happy to do so.

It was during this time there was no room in my life for make up, bracelets, dangling earrings, necklaces, fancy purses or dressy, trendy shoes.

Nope no holes barred. I was going to be as stealth as possible, zipping in and out of that children’s hospital, toting baby and luggage (daughter did also) to hotels for the week, and trolling the streets of Atlanta, looking for places we could afford to eat. Hot mess. Hot, hot mess.

Well, I found the perfect ensemble for such a task as this. With plenty of tunics, leggings and a hipster type purse that hung over my shoulder and landed on the opposite hip, it was all I needed and all I really could manage.

And as of last Thursday (yes, I know I blogged about them already, but it’s THAT important, y’all!) I have my washer and dryer, here, at Six Little Acres.

I have washed everything. Even my Stampin’ Up backpack, the absolute necessity for all those trips. It’s hanging up to dry now.

Ninja Man might be a little jealous because I’ve been hugging these dreamy machines all weekend. I’m trying to keep it classy, but just one kiss on the power button is all innocent, right?


Oh, and the laundry room is pretty small but it is just enough to do the job. I found that rack above at Hobby Lobby for 40% off. It’s the bombdiggity.

Well, that’s it. I’ll try to peel my lips off these dream machine (they DON’T even take quarters!) and report back soon on other things going on at Six Little Acres. I have more time now that I’m not heading to the laundromat every other day. #uppity.

Thanks for stopping by, and please follow us on Facebook! God bless.

Baby Wren is on FB also: Hope for Wren

Cure for dem laundry blues

My washer, dryer and I are finally reunited after a long, long year.

Our dirty laundry has been exposed.

I've washed at the campground and local laundry that is next to a beer joint. I've washed at the Ronald McDonald House when helping during my grandLittle's chemo.

I've carried laundry up and down metal stairs to use a washer and dryer outside a downtown Atlanta motel.

I've loaded my car with no help, got to the laundromat and with people standing at the door, no help holding it open. Same way going back.

But no more.

That whole thing of saving-quarters-till-they-weigh-as-much-as-the-laundry is OH-VER.

Ohhhh veerrrrr.
Here's what:
Ninja Man showed up with these dreamy appliances just this morning. I tried to help him unload, but that has never ever gone well. Just as I was about to lose it- y'all, I mean LOSE IT…. out daughter showed up.

She and her dad share a brain. No really. They do. They got that washer inside and here's who died: nobody.

Again with the dryer. Nobody died.

Partly because I completely left the area. I hid out in the restroom.

Anyway, here I am at Six Little Acres, listening to the swish and gurgle of my washing machine. I think I'm in love.