WAFFLES...OR NOT

My Halloween Rugrats


Nalou, the oldest rug rat, was the first one to call down to me this morning; it was 5:15 AM. Even if I had already been working for an hour, I still wasn’t willing to shatter my alone time.

“Go back to sleep,” I answered him in a loud whisper. “It’s not 6 o’clock yet.”

“But I’m awake NOW,” he insisted.

“So lie down and rest. Or think about ...whatever...and don’t wake the others!” I warned. “You know you don’t come downstairs before 6 AM.”

Even as I said it, I suspected that he would wake the others. Both older boys have discovered that once two year old Tao is up, attention is pretty much guaranteed. Tao, after all, is still too young to understand the 6 o’clock rule.

Sure enough, not even 15 minutes later, all three voices were audible. Hmmm...Nalou was NOT going to have a good morning.

Tao is a terrible tease, and very rambunctious. He is also very aware that Nalou is not allowed to hurt him, and he will play on it without mercy. Leave the two of them in a room alone together for more than 10 minutes, and you can bet your life that Nalou will be loudly complaining about his little brother’s antics, imploring adult intervention. This morning it didn’t even take that long.

“Mémère! Tao is awake now.” Nalou was standing at the top of the stairs.

“I know. You woke him. You all are staying upstairs until 6 o’clock anyway.”

“But he won’t stop jumping on me!” came the predicted whine.

“Too bad. You woke him, you put up with him. None of you are coming down. It’s too early. You have half an hour to wait.” My voice was firm; it brooked little argument. His “But...” and “He won’t...” and “I don’t like...” entreaties faded into the background when I walked into my office and closed the door. I heard the thumps and bumps on the floor above, but was determined that, short of an injury, they would NOT be coming down before the allotted time.

When the half hour was up, I put on the kitchen light and called “All’s clear!” Down they flew, Tao jumping into my arms for his morning cuddle before his lift into the high chair and breakfast. Nalou’s expression was sheepish; he knew he had disobeyed and that a scolding was in order. Instead I reminded him to put his little dog, Wigi (correct spelling!) outside. He reacted as he does every morning when required to do the task.

“It’s too cold, and it’s wet. I’m hungry now.”

“Dog first. Food after.” said his mean old Mémère. His Mommy usually relents and does it for him.

“But his leash is all wrapped up at the bottom of the gallery!”

“That’s right. You didn’t unwrap it last night when you brought him in, so you have that joyful task to do this morning. Before breakfast.”

“But I’m not dressed,” he continued. “And I’m hungry. Wigi can wait.”

“Now!” I stated.

“But I don’t feel like doing it now!”

I turned from the toaster and waffles to stare at him. “Now!” I repeated. ‘Wigi is your responsibility. He needs to go pee. It’s cruel to make him wait. Now!” I handed him the flashlight. It was still dark out there. Dragging his feet, he slumped away to reluctantly do as he was told.

When he showed up Wigi-less ten minutes later, his brothers were already eating.
“I don’t have any waffles, Mémère?” He inquired, studying the empty place where his plate should be.

“Did you ask for some?”

“Yes!” he replied. “I asked before I put Wigi out.”

“Hmmm. I guess I didn’t listen to you then.” I kept busily wiping the counter. When he saw I still hadn’t made a move to prepare his waffles, he stalled a moment, then broached the subject again, his tone uncertain.

“Are you going to make them now?”

“Make what?” I asked airily.

Again he hesitated before saying “My waffles.” He’s a smart lad. I knew it wouldn’t take him long to get the picture.

“I don’t know. I’m wondering if I should listen to you now. Or not.” I turned to look directly at him. He gazed back at me, then visibly came the ‘Aha!’ moment. He ducked his head before responding.

“Yes – you can listen to me. I’m hungry. Please.” His eyes lifted to look into mine. “And I’ll listen to you next time too.”

“We’ve got a deal.” I confirmed, holding out for a high-five.

“A deal!” repeated this handsome grandson of mine, and he slapped his hand into mine.

My wink contained a granny-load of love. He saw it for what it was, and we both SMILED.

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.

LONG SLEEVED PANTS

Today my son is leaving for Alberta – he’ll be working out there with his nephew (my tenant grandson), so is gone for 28 days at a stretch. Happily, the relationship problems are mended, and his lady has definitely moved in here. Between us, we will see to the Rug Rats while Daddy is away.

Financially, this job is too good to pass up, especially when one ponders the future costs of educating three children. We know his absence is going to be difficult for the boys; Daddy is very much implicated in their day to day routine. Thank goodness for Skype, which will be used each evening to keep in touch until Daddy comes back home for his 10 day breaks.

Family and friends have been concerned for me – how I am coping with the huge change from a quiet existence to the ‘invasion’ of a whole family with young children and extra animals. Yes, it can be difficult at times, but my adaptation is nothing compared to that of my son’s lady.

It can’t be easy moving from a home and a town that she loves into her mother-in-law’s house. Not only is it situated in a remote bush area, but there is also having to adjust to ways very different from her own, sharing a bedroom with her 3 sons, listening to another woman reprimand same sons, and now having to stay behind while her man flies up and away. She has accepted it all with much grace. I hadn’t seen them, but suspected that there were occasional tears shed in private. She admitted as much when we sat alone together the other night. Telling her how I admired her attitude opened the floodgates. The heart-to-heart discussion which followed was probably the first of many to come between two women with a common goal – a determination to keep our family happy and strong.

In a couple of hours we’ll be leaving for the airport – his flight is at 2 PM. Yesterday his brother and sister, their spouses, and my son’s dad and present wife came by for a gouté and to join our toast in wishing him well. The rest of the weekend was spent with laundry and packing the tools and clothes he would need for his work. It is already snowing over there so we heeded his 5 year old son, Bali, when he told us not to forget Daddy’s long-sleeved pants.

An apt description; one that made us all SMILE.

Luv from the Bush in Quebec

LOVE, LUST, AND LACK OF SLEEP

The beautiful Louka, with her ardent admirer, Weegie

It was love at first sight. Ummm – I mean lust – it was LUST at first sight! And that is why Weegie was scratching and whining at the side of my bed at 2 AM in the morning.

I thought he had to pee...or worse... so I crawled out of bed and stumbled after him. He is very small and not used to being loose, so I couldn’t just open the door and let him go. It meant stepping outside, bare feet on cold boards, fumbling for the catch in the dim exterior light, then finding the minuscule loop on his collar under all that hair. No sooner attached and he went racing down the stairs to the warm welcome of the beautiful Louka, who suddenly materialized out of the darkness.

And yes, I mean warm; she’s in heat again.

Weegie must have seen her through the window while she was strutting her stuff outside, very aware that at least one male, the only one whose anatomy is still intact, would be watching with interest. And now there were 3 dogs paying attention; Weejie’s scurrying had aroused the curiosity of Smooch and Grump. Both huge mutts were standing just inside the entrance, certain that they should be allowed to go play too. NOT!

They reluctantly returned to their couches when I pointed and whispered the command. Fifteen minutes later they were right back up again to watch me drag (literally!) Weegie inside. I didn’t want to leave the little dude out there too long with nocturnal hunters in the bush; he is smaller and less agile than a cat. He protested, but I wanted to SLEEP!

As soon as Weegie was untied, Smooch got into the act; his playmate was awake and excited – fun and games hour!! It took more minutes of hissing threats (the rug rats were sleeping; I couldn’t yell at the beasts or the boys would be up too) before I got them settled down.

Ah, finally! Snuggled back in bed and reaching for Morpheus.

Fat chance! Weegie was right back beside me, pulling his ‘let me out now, now, now!' crap. There was no way I could sleep with this going on! Once more I got up, only this time I shut him in the bathroom, with both doors closed. I also sent the ever attentive Grump and Smooch back to their couches...again.

Weegie began to yap. Big dogs bark, little dogs yap. Telling him to shut up didn’t do it. Exasperated, I rushed to grab him and put him none too gently on the pillow beside me, threatening that he would become an appetizer for the owls if he didn’t stop.

Guess what? Lust is stronger than threats. The yapping stopped, but was replaced by whining as he run back and forth the length of my bed. I was still puzzling on how to make him quiet down, short of wringing his neck, when I heard similar sounds coming from the kitchen, only made by larger dogs, so much louder.

Grump and Smooch would never get that excited even if Louka was up on the gallery, so I needed to investigate, and quickly, or everyone in the house would be awake. I hurried towards them, Weegie following close behind me, his little paws clicking on the wood floors. Both pits were standing at the windowed French doors, tails waving wildly, uttering that half whine-half bark thing they do, and jockeying for position to see...Dora!

Fred’s girlfriend’s 6 month old kitten was sitting out there, not moving, staring in at them imperiously, well aware that they couldn’t touch her through the glass. When she saw me she stood, arching her back slightly; her it’s-about-time stance. I shushed the dogs, and reached out to pick her up, held her high while the hounds milled around me, and she was deposited, also none too gently, on the other side of the door leading down to Fred’s apartment...but...PUCK! I hadn’t closed the other door properly and now that sneaky Weegie was on the long gallery, booting it as fast as he could towards the part of the stairs where he can slip his little self through the space and get down into the yard. The beautiful Louka stood waiting, her feathered tail waving gently as she watched me chase him down. ARRGH!

“Enough of this!” I declared to the world in general. My voice was what you could probably term as a very loud stage whisper. I toned it down while adding some colorful words when I realized that one of the rug rats could be awake and listening. In fact, I was surprised that anyone was still sleeping!

Snap decision.

I pointed at the couches, and Grump and Smooch, clued in by the tone and gesture used, quickly and silently slouched over to lie down. Weegie I carried to where his leash is installed, threw open the door, then tied him outside. It was the only way I’d get peace for what was left of the night. Louka watched him scoot towards her and looked up at me in gratitude.

“You’re big enough to watch out for the runt,” I told her. “You let anything get him, then it’s my gain and your loss!”

I knew I was up for the day. Before my sleeping habits would allow me to snooze now, it would be time for the boys to get up and fed and dressed and driven to school and daycare. Admitting defeat, I gloomily passed my bedroom door, heading for the kitchen and the coffee maker.

A noise from upstairs had me raising my head, expecting to see one of the rug rats. Instead, there was Kiti, their 10 month old kitten, perched on the beam, taking in the view below. If she decided to come down, the pits would be excited again, damnit!

“And just what are you planning, Missy?” I asked her, softly. Her pretty cat eyes looked into mine. “Are you going to be pain in the butt too?” She studied me for a moment, then languorously reclined her length before returning her attention to the pits, which were alert and watching.

“Ah – one intelligent animal in the menagerie,” I sighed with relief. Kiti responded by glancing at me again, her eyes now half closed. I could almost hear her drawl her answer.

“Of, course, darling.”

I gratefully bowed to Her Majesty Kiti, and I smiled.

Luv from the Bush in Quebec

EVERYTHING ELSE

The 3 doggies, sharing a couch


Smooch is hurt. Last night we were out taking our daily run – Smooch, Grump, Louka and I when Dora, my grandson’s kitten, shows up at the bottom of the stairs. The 3 huge dogs made a beeline for her and she raced up the stairs to get away. The dogs collided while trying to navigate the bottleneck on the stone steps, I guess. The wall was blocking my view. I heard a yelp of pain, and turned the corner to see Smooch lying there. When I saw he couldn’t walk, I enlisted Fred’s help to carry the poor doggie up and into the kitchen. I believe it’s a sprain – it doesn’t seem to be broken because he did get to his feet a short time later, but is dragging that leg behind him. This may mean a trip to the dreaded vet later this morning. Ugh – Kujo time. Dora, by the way, escaped safely, and was probably sitting up there smirking when she saw the result of the chase.

My oldest grandson, Fred, is presently negotiating the purchase of a house on this road, about half a mile behind mine. He and his little girlfriend are finding the noise from the Rug Rats a bit overwhelming – three little dudes running and yelling very early in the morning when you are trying to sleep below them can be disturbing. The house is brand new, and if all works out, he’ll be moving at the end of November. At the moment, my son, his lady, and the three boys are sleeping in the open loft upstairs. The space is large enough, but there is no privacy. If Fred does move, his apartment will be transformed into bedrooms for the children. Each will have his own room, plus there will be a play/TV/area, and their own bathroom. The parents will keep the loft.

Tomorrow we’ll be celebrating Mommy’s birthday. She has invited her dad & mom & brother for supper. At the same time, 7 year old Nalou is having a miniature pyjama party – there will be a couple of extra Rug Rats staying over. Just before leaving for school, Nalou was setting up the living room for his guests, and pointed out who would be where. He had each of his male friends on other couches, but his “Lover”, the only little girl invited, has a special reservation, on the biggest couch. He also informed me that he would be sharing it with her, and the sly grin that accompanied his statement was hilarious! I have a feeling that Mommy will be making a change in his sleeping arrangements.

I’ve been spoiled this week. On Tuesday evening I was invited to Dawna & Malcolm’s lovely house for supper. The meal is always delicious, and the conversation stimulating with these friends. The next night I met my daughter and her two oldest at a Bistro, where we celebrated Fred’s 22nd birthday with a fondue. Because of her intensive study and work schedule, I don’t see my granddaughter often; both she and her mother are ‘gigglers’, and Fred is such an easygoing dude...a fun time!

On both nights I had a curfew – I needed to be home for 10 PM so that Mommy could go into work on the graveyard shift. The Rug rats were already in bed, but I was greeted by 3 dogs and 2 cats (the parrot hasn’t moved in yet), each of them vying for my petting, while keeping a wary eye of the others in the group. Grump, being the head honcho, stayed the longest by my side, leaning against my knee. Even the cats treat him with deference.


“And that’s the way it should be, huh, Grump? You the man!!” I ruffled his ears, then hugged this patient friend of mine before kissing the top of head. He turned and gently licked my hand, and together we SMILED.


Luv from the Bush in Quebec

HEART TIMES

Mommy


SO – the weekend is over, and my ever solicitous children did their best to keep me from being too morose. Instead of alone time, there was soon a houseful of caring people. It was all good; much action with the Rug Rats showing off for visitors, Smooch giving chase as they ran to and fro, the table laden with delicious food prepared by my youngest son, who decided to stay here instead of attending his planned activity. His lady had questioned my hiding and weeping in my office Saturday morning, worried that it was something she had done. Her eyes filled with tears as I explained how much I was missing my bro; I knew her gentle heart would understand, and that she was more than willing to join the others in offering me comfort.

Even with all the attempts to distract me, there was still no way I could sleep until that anniversary hour of his crossing over was passed. It was nearly 4 AM on Sunday morning before I could make peace with my emotions, close my eyes, and welcome the ever elusive Morpheus.

The snooze didn’t last long; the energy of three young lads is not ideal for relaxation, and they are very early risers. What’s more, their Daddy was away for his second day in training, and even if Mommy did her best to keep the noise to a dull roar, well...it was just Mommy, after all. Sometimes gentle hearts need to be steeled.

We’re working on it.

Lately, Mommy has been spending most of her time here with us. It didn’t take long for me to realize that a huge part of the problem in her family was caused by the interaction between her and the boys. Those Rug Rats were running her life, draining her energy as children being brats can do, and leaving little room for a decent ‘couple’ relationship.

I have no problem with noise – yelling and laughing and running and some squealing are par for the course. In fact, I’ve been known to join in! However, I can’t accept disrespect, temper tantrums, and especially constant SCREAMING when wishes are thwarted– and this one day, it was all I was hearing. Mommy repeatedly asked them to stop. It only got worse. Finally, totally exasperated, nearly in tears, she walked 5 year old Bali to the bedroom and told him to stay there. What a scene followed! That lad’s pitch can shatter a wine glass, I swear!

Mommy came back downstairs immediately, trembling, telling me she would ignore him and he would stop after awhile. WHAT??? When either she or my son was around, I’d been attempting to stay in the background concerning any decisions or discipline for the kids, but I couldn’t take it anymore.

“No!’ I said. “He has made it unpleasant for everyone in the house whenever you are here and his Dad isn’t. What he is doing now is unacceptable, and now the baby is imitating him. We’re in for a long haul if we’re to all live together. The children will not control THIS home!!”

The lady is everything I believed she was. I know how differently she was raised, how difficult it is to accept that maybe some of her convictions are wrong, and then to take action accordingly...but that is exactly what she did.....and it worked...and she has continued doing it. The Rug Rats are responding, must faster than she expected. Of course! They are only acting with her now as they were already doing with their Daddy and Mémère – like happy, secure children instead of spoiled, little tyrants.

I cared for this girl before, and I find myself respecting her more with each day she is with us. I can see so much of what made my son fall in love with her.

Her character and present attitude increases my certainty that this family is going to adjust just fine! And that thought makes me SMILE!

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.

TODAY.....

It will be a year, tonight at 2:05, and it’s hard to believe that it has been that long; it feels like yesterday. Once again I have the baby monitor on my night table. Even with my eyes closed, the humming sound reminds me of this time last October. Now instead of listening for Bird’s call from his sick bed, it is to hear if one of the rug rats should wake. The monitor is installed for the same reason as before, to offer comfort when needed; only the circumstances are different.

The children are here this morning, noisy and energetic as children are meant to be. Most days I can deal with it, in fact I enjoy it, but I was relieved to hear that the whole family will be going to a friend’s place for supper and the evening. I need some alone time with my doggies – and with my memories.

I’ve been trying to hold back tears since I got up, but they have a mind of their own. I’ve shut myself in my office to avoid the rug rats’ questioning stares. Their Mommy must be wondering too – usually I’m out there helping with breakfast, refereeing the squabbles, curbing Smooch’s overly enthusiastic play. My son is in training classes today. If he was here, he would know why, and act as a buffer. I doubt if she remembers, and she is too polite to ask. I’ll have to explain - it’s not fair to her otherwise. She is very close to her own brother, and I know she’ll understand.

I miss him....enormously.

He knew me better than anyone else ever could, or ever will again. If he was here right now, he’d sit beside me, and throw his arm around my shoulders; give me a squeeze. He would try a couple of jokes, and if there was no response on my part, he would stay there and hold me quietly, waiting until the pain eased. Then he would probably comment that the sound of my sobbing was much like my singing...an awful racket to be confronted with stoic endurance.

And I would tell him “I’m gonna kick your ass, Bird!”, and he would answer, “Not if I kick yours first!”

And we would both SMILE.

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.

TESTING....

I wasn’t really expecting anyone for Thanksgiving but had decided to do the traditional meal anyway. It had been the favorite holiday for both my mom and my brother, Bird; it just wouldn’t feel right to skip it. In the end, we were 9 people gathered around the table that night...and 3 doggies. My daughter showed up with wine and baguettes and friends (yes, she warned me a couple of hours ahead of time), and the two youngest Rug Rats came with their Mommy.

My son, when talking reconciliation with the Mommy,including the plan for the whole family moving in here, had warned her that this was the ‘party’ house where most occasions are celebrated – holidays, birthdays, and just people getting together. Her increased avoidance of such occasions, and her total reluctance to invite anyone except her own family (rarely) to their home was one point of contention in their relationship...and with his siblings. Mommy had told him there would be no problem; after weeks of self analysis, she has concluded that isolation is no longer desirable. She wants her real life, including her man and children, back to where it once was, and she could handle receiving guests if that was part of it.

Words, said my son. We’ll see what happens when the time comes.

“Time has come – Initiation Day!” I texted to him shortly after hearing there would be last minute guests. He answered me back from his perch in the tree way up in the northern hunting forests.

“LOL – Good! Let me know how it goes!”

We all had a lovely time. Mommy and the rug rats were first to arrive, and she pitched in to help with preparations. She continued in the same vein throughout the evening, chatting pleasantly with everyone, serving turkey and squash and pumpkin pie, up immediately with my daughter for clearing the table and washing dishes, sincerely enjoying the antics from both the boys and the guests. Then she was no sooner over breakfast the next day and she was cleaning – bathrooms, windows, and floors – all the while joking with me and the kids. My daughter phoned, and I told her what was happening.

"Tell her I’ll go put the For Sale sign on their house myself!" my daughter laughed. I repeated what she said, and Mommy’s face glowed. We were rebuilding our bridges.

She was in the shower when I again texted my son.
“Test passed – flying colours!! Giving her an A+” I wrote. He had been watching for the results, because my phone beeped nearly immediately with his answer.

It was a huge SMILE!

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.

MY PRECIOUS, AND PAT_B'S POST

The view from my gallery yesterday afternoon - awesome!


Pat_B’s post titled “Where to find inspiration” gave me the incentive to write what you’ll read here. It also helped me make a decision that has been rolling around...no...make that turning cartwheels...in my mind since this conversation took place a couple of weeks ago. I’ve been mulling it over; holding it close to my heart as Smeagol did in Lord of the Rings...muttering “My Precious”...


The Rug Rats were in bed, the doggies snoozing on the couch, and my son and I sat together at the kitchen table, relaxing in the quiet aftermath of hectic homework and play and baths and little boy noise. Jo had already mentioned his intention of staying with me, whether he could save his love relationship or not. If the latter did work out, his lady would join the household. Now he had something else to add, and the way he said it makes me suspect that it has already been discussed with his brother and sister...and his lady.

Approximately two years ago, my three children, worried about my being alone out here, began to exert gentle pressure that I make other living arrangements. I told them flat out that I had no intentions of leaving the bush, and anyway, my dogs, being pits, are banned in most towns or cities...and my health was still fine. We finally agreed that Jo, who would eventually buy the inherited share of my house from his siblings, would move in with his family....but MY projected date was in 2022. The Rug Rats would be older, and it was my hope that living alone until then would be no hassle. Although not entirely comfortable with the decision, my offspring backed off some, even if it would come up again whenever I wasn’t feeling well, or if there was a renovation problem. So Jo’s moving in with me is not a new plan; it is only way ahead of its time.

When grandson Fred took the apartment downstairs, they all sighed with relief. Then my brother was so ill that he was here too, so there was always someone around. Within a few months I was alone again, with Bird’s passing over and Fred’s job taking him away for weeks at a time. Once more I was hearing murmurs that I shouldn’t be out here alone, I should be letting my kids take care of me. I’m still wondering if Fred’s little girlfriend realized how happy everyone was when she decided to stay in the apartment during his absences.

Jo’s separation happening shortly after has definitely taken care of worries about my solitude! Now, as I listened to what my son was suggesting, it seemed as if Part 2 of their plan was being broached.

It is no secret that I am having a devil of a time now to make ends meet; that my savings were wiped out by a bad business decisions, compounded by the expenses incurred with my brother’s illness. Worse, my energy and desire to rebuild are just not there. To make it work, it would mean commuting back and forth to the city again. The truth is, in fact, that I have never really enjoyed accounting, and now I’m finding it a burden to insure that the work even pays its own way. I’m treading water...barely.

“Write!” my son was saying now. “You have always done it, but you had to make a living. Now we’ll be here – keep only the clients you want....if you want. I’m sure you can make money at writing, and it’s what you love to do. And even if it doesn’t pay, you don’t have to worry anymore – I’m here for that.”

With my brain floundering in the shock caused by his words, I could only mumble something about independence and being a glorified babysitter. He laughed at me before reminding me that this is MY house, and that I was helping with the boys already – not having to worry about clients would just make it easier. He also insisted that it was more an exchange of favours, and that he was convinced I could make money by writing, if being independent was my only fear. He added that whatever I decided to do was my choice; either way was fine with him.

Well, Holy Puck! Maybe not the appropriate reaction when someone offers you your dream on a silver platter, but it was exactly what I was thinking.

And so I have been writing about my Rug Rats, and hoarding this little secret pearl, and then Pat_B’s post gave me that required little push to the edge. Although there is some unfinished accounting work to be done, and I probably will keep one or two minimum maintenance clients, I am accepting my son’s offer. If it doesn’t work out, I know my kids will at least feed me...

Do you think I’m SMILING? You’re darn tootin’ I am, and it’s a biggie – more than enough to share – so help yourselves, folks! It’s a SMILING celebration!!

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.

WHAT? NO NOISE?

This is pretty awesome! It’s just after 6 AM and here I am sitting at my desk writing instead of dishing out toast or strawberries or eggs or cereal. The doggies are still drowsing on their couches; no scolding of Smooch this morning for sneaking under the table, licking each of the Rug Rats’ knees in turn, aiming for a share of breakfast.

Neither is there sound from the basement apartment. Yesterday my grandson got home from his 28 day stint at the far end of the country, and he and his little girlfriend are wrapped up in each other, shutting out the world around them. Wait! I hear noise!! Oh yes – kitten Dora is into something down there – there was a bang followed by a scuffle. Trust the nocturnal feline to keep us on our toes!

My son left Thursday for the annual moose hunting week away up north somewhere, and this after being so sick that he wasn’t even able to work. Jo has to be really not well before staying in bed like he did – he’s a tough dude, that one. Even if he looked better, I loaded his backpack with medication for cold, flu, nausea, but I understood his need to get away into the deep forest for awhile. In spite of his mother’s aversion to it, Jo loves the hunt like I do hockey. (No, I’m not going there!!)

My older son and his Japanese wife will be spending Thanksgiving weekend with his dad, who is slowly recovering from colon cancer. The Rug Rats are with Mommy at least until tomorrow; the maternal grandparents need their dose of little boy hugs and kisses. My daughter and one or two of the older grandkids may, or may not, show up for turkey & trimmings. I’ll be cooking anyway, and if no-one comes around there will be little danger of it going to waste in this populated household. Talk about leftover heaven!

For an update, Mommy has been spending most of her days and nights with us, much to the boys’ delight. My son is adamant about living here now, and there have been discussions about them selling the house and her moving in with us permanently. She wisely is waiting until my son asks her to do so; he is taking his time. It’s blatantly apparent that they still love each other, but there is the element of trust to rebuild...and Jo wants to be sure. In the meantime, we are adjusting to this huge change in our lives, and up to now we’re doing a darned fine job of it too!

********************************

I had to interrupt my writing; Nalou, the oldest rug rat, called to tell me he’s invited to go camping with a family for the weekend, and could I please bring him his pumps (in case) and his sweat pants? He also wanted to give me the Halloween cake he had made for me yesterday. It was a muffin, and he grinned as he handed it to me, apologizing because he had eaten the top – the part with the chocolate pumpkin on it.

Now that his little dog, Weegie, has been accepted here, Nalou has been hinting that we must not forget his 9 month old kitten, named Keetee. This morning he told his Mom that when the cat is happy and nice, her name is Keetee B., giving it my surname, but that when it is grumpy and a pest, her name changes to Keetee R., using the last name of his grandfather (my ex).

Only 7 years old and already so observant...makes a granny SMILE!

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.