Lump in My Throat...

I haven't really blogged, because:

1. I haven't felt like it.

2. I haven't had time.

That about sums it up. Yes, so many amazing things have happened in the last couple of weeks. Things with Caris are moving faster than expected. She got a call-back from the agent we went to see last week. They would like to represent her. As soon as we get her headshots to them, they'll get her some work. I think all of us are pretty much blown away. I mention my awe at the situation over the dinner table last night, our FIRST sit-down family dinner in...well, geez, I can't even remember. Caris got called away suddenly to drama practice, so she wasn't able to have dinner with us. Upon Charlie's return, I make note of my surprise at how quickly things are going for her. Charlie agrees. Averie disagrees. She says we should expect this because Caris IS talented. I explain my remark. I'm NOT surprised that she's being called for work. I'm not surprised that agents are noticing her. I'm not surprised in her drive or talent. I'm surprised that it's going SO fast. Averie agrees, or at least understands my position.

Now, on the other side OR along side all of this, there are still the "normalcies" of everyday life that have needed attending to. Charlie and I spent all day Saturday taking care of Mom's affairs. Getting her files in order; things were a complete mess since Papa was the one that did all the paperwork and bill paying and since he's been gone since June, things have been a little out of control. We organized her tax files in preparation for the tax man, shredded old papers, and generally tidied up.

I've noticed with older people that no matter how organized they were in their younger days; once they reach a certain point, everyday tasks simply weary them. You see on the news stories about "hoarders", people who can't seem to get rid of anything. My own mom was a hoarder in the worse way. A kickback, I'm told, of growing up during the Great Depression. You hoard out of fear that you may lose everything at any moment. With Charlie's mom, I notice a growing dispensation toward hoarding. But her fear is different. Her fear is that of losing control of an already uncontrolled situation. A kind of paranoia. She stands next to me or Charlie as we bind old newspapers and magazines for recycling. She wonders out loud if there are any magazines with her name and address still attached. If so, she almost fearfully begs us to remove all the lables and shred them, which we do to appease her.

She still has Christmas cards in stacks on the kitchen table. The kitchen table is now covered with papers, as well as the dining room table. It saddens me because I've known this woman for 24 years and I've always known her to be fastidiously fussy about the appearance of her home, her kitchen, even her proper English self. I check her fridge. There are veggies and fruits going bad. I put them in the trash. She asks me what I'm throwing away. I show her. I tell her not to worry, I'll make a shopping list and bring her fresh produce and whatever else she needs. Charlie repairs a broken shelf in her kitchen. When I'm done with her kitchen, I move to the stacks and stacks of junk mail. I sneak around the backdoor and quietly whisper to Charlie to dump these things in the outside trash so that she doesn't see. We're talking about MONTHS of old, junk mail. She never notices they're gone.

I sit down next to her and try to help her go through her bills and prepare them to be paid. Her mind is so willing to do this thing that we all must do, but her hands won't let her write very well. So one by one, I write them, enter them in her checkbook, and I have her sign them. We seal the envelopes and put on the stamps. While I go to make her some lunch, she says she can handle the next one on her own. When I come back I notice that she overpaid a bill by $100. When I point it out to her, she becomes frustrated at her inability to keep things straight. Charlie and I make her promise not to pay bills unless one of us is with her, for her own protection.

Once we're all done with all of the "chores", we ask her if there's anything we can do for her. We have her grocery store list. We have her overdue car registration which we cannot pay until we get her car smog certified, and that's on TOMORROW'S To Do List, we have her taxes. She seems fine and happy that her house has been tidied, her bills have been paid. She's grateful and hugs us both and tells us how much she loves us.

We go home, but the work doesn't end. Now OUR dining room table is covered with papers. Mom's papers. While I sort through papers we've brought home, Charlie goes over her bank statements to balance them. We talk about what still needs to be done. We make a plan for tomorrow (Sunday).

Averie has plans for Mary to spend the night and is very excited. She misses her. I know that feeling. I miss so many things about spending time with friends. Just some quiet comfort in good company with no worries. As it turns out, Mary can't come...transporation problem. I can tell that Averie is sad and Charlie doesn't want her to drive to Long Beach in her car because it needs some engine work. You don't wanna get stuck in Long Beach at night. I tell her to tell Mary that I will drive up to LB and pick her up.

"Really? You'll do that?"

"Of course." I smile. "But it will have to be after dinner, when traffic dies down."

"Okay, no problem!"

She tells Mary by IM. Mary asks if I'm sure because it's far. I say again.."of course, silly."

Mary responds; "I love my TOM."

That alone makes it worth it and after dinner, Averie, Caris and I jump in Charlie's car and go get Mary....listening to "Little Shop of Horrors" all the way. When we get home, I'm completely exhausted and all I want to do is get my jammies on, have a glass of wine or five, and go to bed. Bobby arrives at 10 or 11ish to watch SNL with the girls. I remember days like that. It doesn't seem so long ago, and yet it was an eternity. In my room, lying next to Charlie, I fall asleep to the sounds of laughter from the next room.

On Sunday, we get up early and go grab a bite to eat before taking Mom's car to get smogged. For some reason, a wave of sadness washes over me. I have a lump in my throat and it's not dissolving so easily. It's all been so much. I cry into my coffee. I'm tired. Charlie reaches across the table and squeezes my hand.

"Thank you for all you've done. For me, for the kids, for my Mom. Please don't cry."

"I'm so tired, Charlie. And if I'm tired, I imagine that you are beyond exhausted."

"I can handle it. But I know that you've put in your time above and beyond the call of duty. You don't have to do all this stuff for my mom. When my mom has told me how grateful she is, and what a wonderful person you are and how loving and kind you have been to her, I tell her that I hope she understands now why I made the choice I did. And why I love you so much."

I smile. He means it. I don't doubt that.

"We need a vacation." He says.

I snicker. "Yeah, right."

"I know. I keep saying that. I had one all planned, and then Mom got sick. I was going to take you to Rosarito for a weekend."

"It's ok. There's so much to do and you and I are doing double/triple duty."

"I promise to make it up to you."

I smile. He means it. I don't doubt that.

We spend the rest of Sunday looking for a place to take the car, but none are open on Sundays. We decide to go home and spend some time with Bryson. Of everyone, he's the one that's been "neglected" the most. He's home alone all the time while we're doing things for the girls, or for Mom. I've felt guilty about that. He needs a haircut, the soles of his one pair of shoes is coming apart, he's grown so much in the last month that his pants are too short. So we go get him, take him shopping, get his hair cut, take him to his favorite lunch place. He's happy.

At the end of the day, I wonder about the true root meaning of the word "weekend". The elusive time of rest. End? Does the week really end? At the beginning of the new week, does it honestly feel like there was an end to the old one? I wish I could take a nice, long nap. Maybe that will help me figure it out. But there's no time for that.