I sing a lot, which is funny because I'm not the least bit musical and couldn't tell if an instrument was in or out of tune or if a singer was singing flat to save my life. Still, I sing, and I hum, and when I'm quiet, there's frequently a tune running through my head. This morning, I woke to hear in my head the voice of Jock the Scottish Terrier from "Lady and the Tramp," singing about the "bonny, bonny bank in the backyard." The only way to get a tune like that dislodged is to get it replaced by another one. Half the time, they're toxic tunes, silly things like "Seasons in the Sun" or similar ditties. It's a curse, but one I've learned to live with. KidThree has to put up with it because she sings as badly as I do. One day, she was warbling away in her room when I stuck my head in and said, "I liked it better when I thought all black folks could sing," to which she fired right back, "and I liked it better when I thought all white folks was rich!"
KidOne turned 25 on Tuesday. It's hard to believe that twenty-five years have gone by so quickly--I can still remember being pregnant with her and starting labor and everything that came after that, all twenty-five years of it. It's been a long and rocky road, but oh my oh my has it been worth it. I look at her now and can hardly believe that that poised young woman is the little baby I used to rock back to sleep.
Then Wednesday, KidThree turned 19. She had plans for the day but those got cancelled last minute, so all we managed was a visit to her grandmother. That was a good thing, but the day was a letdown for my lovely girl and it hurt my heart terribly to see her so crushed. Blast oh Blast when the world hurts our children and we can't stop it. On the plus side, she did make it to nineteen and has the world in front of her, if only she can hang on and figure out her way.
I didn't have to drive up to the big hospital ninety miles away on Monday because Sunday night I went to check the mail and found Good Mail, a copy of one of the forms the social worker needed, along with a sticky note that the original had been sent to the social worker. I'm still a little concerned, because we needed TWO forms signed and sent to the social worker, but I'm hoping. Our phones are turned off right now; I should have the bill paid and them turned back on Monday or Tuesday; then I'll check with the social worker to make sure she has everything she needs. Maybe within another week or two or three, time sheets will be issued?
***My complaint about this horrible delay in funding is not that the system is too slow or too anything else, but that the old county should not have stopped processing time sheets until the new county was prepared to take over that task. That was all. The funding is from the state, so it wasn't a matter of the old county having to fund someone who moved. Just the processing of the time sheets. That little change, that fifteen minutes somewhere twice a month, would have prevented this mess.
Work is going well. The children's father is on a business trip right now, so I've got them to myself through Sunday. Next week is BoyOne's spring break, then GirlOne has hers the following week. A little annoying that they couldn't have break at the same time, but then again having just one of the older two out on break does give a different dynamic here at home. BoyTwo has learned how to write his first name and is about halfway through learning his middle name. His middle name is more difficult because it has an 'S' in it, and S's you know are sneaky, the way they wind around back and forth. GirlTwo has learned how to make an 'A,' which is the first letter of her first name.
BoyTwo from the backseat today: "Susan, what does it mean when a bird's tummy blinks green?"
That one had me stumped until GirlOne figured out he had been looking at a pigeon--the blinking tummy was the bird's iridescent plumage. I told him the bird's feathers were just pretty like that, and smiled to myself that I was granted that peek into his world where a bird's tummy can blink green.