The Fun is Done

GS has been marathoning the 2007 movie version of Alvin and the Chipmunks since I found the movie in a CD bargain bin this past Spring. We had the soundtrack memorized before the end of Summer Vacation. Last night, as we disassembled the Christmas room, The Christmas Song from that movie morphed into post Christmas lyrics ending with, "I can har-r-r-rdly believe that all the fun is done." There was a deep sense of satisfaction between the four grands as we left the Christmas decorations scattered across the extraction room awaiting the final packing and strolled through the starlight yard to the house. GS mourned that the Christmas Barn is just a honey barn once more. "Just. . ." Spoken like a five-year-old who is clueless how much work went in to repurposing the old dairy barn into *just* a honey barn.

GD and I have established a wake up routine during her vacation weeks here. Gampy and GS are slower risers, so our wake up routine has been a delightfully private girl time for us. I do believe she is ready to nominate me for the "Queen of Breakfast" title. I woke up a bit earlier than usual this morning, but already find myself anticipating our last wake-up of the vacation. I still have very mixed emotions about letting Hubs carry them back to the romantic chaos of the other grandparent house today, but I am equally relieved that we get to preserve our Grand Time. There are HUGE differences between Grand Time and primary care. Giving up Grand Time was top of my personal "Con" list in the aborted notion of our taking primary custody of the GKs while their parents work to satisfy CPS mandates for regaining custody of their children. Daddy sounds happy with his new job. Mama remains a mystery to us, but Daddy tells me she and the new baby are doing their post-partum recovery at the other grandparent house. Prayers in progress that they can avoid the 21st century bridezilla classic of invalidating Daddy's role in the lives of their children. Just mail the divorce lotto check, Shithead. Plying therapy tools to my doomsayer symptoms so I can let go and let God on that score. Que sera sera.

As sad as I am that all the fun is done, I am also looking forward to getting back to work. Hubs is planning to stay in the Urban Homestead at least until the Wednesday night jam session he has been part of since? ? ? Well. . . He participated in Jr High band with one of the jamming buddies. Can we call that forever? I already feel divorced from the Urban Homestead. There is nothing but an antiquated "Not Working" job for me there. There is considerable more there for Hubs. His career is still going and his social connections go all the way back to the Corporate Kid Clique which migrated from Houston to Los Angelas to Houston to Austin with him. I still donae feel any more a part of that Clique than I feel a part of his upper middle class family. He is loosely planning to return after the Wednesday night jam session, but that is ALLOT of distraction. I have given my wifely blessing for him to play the return part by ear. "You do remember what you married, don't you, Babycakes?" After all these weeks of social intensity, I am ready for some alone time.

I hope to finish out the honey barn paint job and start on the floors this week. We see how she flows.

Raptor appears to be adapting well. Yesterday afternoon she seemed to grow a recognition of GD as they developed what looked like a game of Catch the Glitter Pipe Cleaner GD was poking through the cage bars for Raptor to lunge at.