Downton Abbey–our fun family game

Quick, I have about an hour of FREEDOM, sweet freedom–while the kids are surfing. Don’t tell them I took an unauthorized break. I need to share our fun family game. It’s the ultmate in reality based charades. It’s like the Amazing Race and The Real World meet Downton Abbey. Actually, it really IS Downton Abbey or Upstairs, Downstairs. I play the role of the entire downstairs staff. My son, his wife, and her sister embody the aristocracy. Have you heard the phrase, “To the manor born”? I found its possible first use in Shakespeare’s Hamlet:

      Ay, marry, is’t:
But to my mind, though I am native here
And to the manner born, it is a custom
More honour’d in the breach than the observance.

The leave their dirty and stained clothes on the floor outside their bedroom doors to let me know that it’s time for a wash. Yesterday they needed help finding a fresh roll of toilet tissue. Heaven forbid they’d change it themselves. I need to be reminded that it’s not their place to do such menial tasks. That’s what I’m for, I can’t forget that! Just now, I went into their bathroom and spied three empty rolls strewn about the floor, even though the wastebasket is about three steps away.

I’m not f-ing kidding you.

How many Ph.D.s does it take to actually find the trash? Apparently more than I have in the house at the present time. Here’s the photo proof…

 

 

 

 

 

Hurricane Angel Boy touched down here in SoCal. Enjoy the pic, I gotta go!

I sat at the children’s table

That’s because there was only me plus the kids here, so I was outnumbered. No tugboat man nor BioDad this year. I know it might seem crazy, but am I the only one who can’t seem to think of their grown son as an adult? I still see him as a four-year-old, and I’m still bringing him tissues when he sniffs and I wait until he blows his nose. I still praise him for the simplest things, “Look who’s reading a book, what a good boy!” Then there’s, “Please take out the trash”.  A few minutes later, “Please take the trash out.” After fifty requests, I give up and take out the trash.  Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose. The more things change, the more things stay the same. I’m short on time while everyone’s still here–cooking, driving, shopping, cleaning–but I’ll be back as soon as I’m free. All my little birdies’ll be leaving the nest on Monday, but while they’re here, my time is not my own. It’s 6:30 a.m. Soon they’ll be awake, needing a first breakfast of homemade granola and Greek yogurt before a surf sesh, which’ll leave me time to get their Breakfast Burritos prepared.

Breakfast Burritos are so easy! Refried beans with cheese, scrambled eggs, sliced avocado, tomatoes, salsa, and sour cream–all rolled up in a huge tortilla. That’s what the cool kids eat!

Our T-day table and one of my son, DIL, and sister wife (on the left). ImageImage