The Expedition

Well, it begins. Just when I thought 'The Lady Upstairs' was going to leave us alone, she decided to make her occupation known by offering to cut Keadys' hair. And when I explained to her that I've been the one doing his hair for his entire 3 years, she said "How about tomorrow? He needs a haircut." I'm sorry, but if you saw her hair (or the wonderful Mr. Norm's hair), you would NOT want her to come around you with a pair of scissors. Anyway, I managed to avoid her when we got back by saying that Keadys was going to be going to bed right away (which he ended up going to bed 2 1/2 hours later). As we left the house this morning (through the upstairs door instead of the basement one that we usually use), she trapped me. 'The Lady Upstairs' cornered me and held up a large razor ready to attack "JACKASS" style, catching the back of my head and leaving a rather huge bald spot. I'm kidding. She did, however, say that Keadys still needed a haircut. But it's practically the same thing...



I guess it's a little bit better than waking up to Mr. Norm waving 'hello' while standing at the bottom of the bed. This is what happens when we sleep on the floor of the living room in the basement, a high traffic area that is commonly used to walk through to get to the hot tub. Or the lawn mower at 8:30 this morning. Nevermind while Keadys is still sleeping and I'm trying to feed baby. I'm telling you, this is lack of privacy if I ever felt it. Not that I'm always trying to feel up privacy. But it's practically the same thing...



I'm tired. This routine is getting old and I'm tired of trying to get my children to stay quiet and be able to enjoy the conversations that Bram and I used to have without a hushed whisper. We each throw our own muted temper tantrums, stomping on a floor that echoes throughout the whole basement. Bram starts his new job tomorrow, and hopefully that throws us into a place that we can call our own. For now, we couch hop and share the dinners of others. It makes me feel horrible, having to rely on people the way we do, but thankful for all the caring, giving hands.



Until next time, I hope 'The Lady Upstairs' cannot run; she needs a haircut.





Mel.