So, I'm not done painting the doors yet because the phone keeps ringing. (see previous blog..."I kicked down the door") Now my adult kids all say I never answer the phone. That is an exaggeration of sorts. I do answer it...when I can. I certainly don't run to get the phone anymore, that is true, those days are in the past...and climbing down a ladder with a paintbrush in hand...that's out of the question...In my younger days, when trapped at home with small children I was so anxious for any contact with the outer world I would run happily to the phone to hear an adult voice. You can get a bit batty when you only hear cartoons, big bird, or a house full of little ones running about.
And as batty as you get watching children day after day, you can't ignore them when they're in action, you must have eyes on all the time, I found out the hard way. Longing for an adult conversation, without diapers or sippy cups as the major topic I was talking to a dear friend who had abandoned me and moved away. I was keeping an eye on the little ones...well...sort of...while I was absorbed in the phone conversation and I saw my oldest son Patrick, yes, my husband and I are Pats, and so is our oldest son. Rather fun as he got older and we answered the phone. We sounded like we were a new age religion or something "Do you want...Pat the father, Pat the mom, or Pat the son."
But I digress, I saw Patrick running around with a potato. So cute, trying to be like mom, pretending to be cooking...(to this day he is a wonderful cook...) It was cute until I saw him walking by with the squash I had under the sink for dinner the next night...I followed him to discover the toilet filled with my brand new 10 pound bag of potatoes topped off with the squash. Luckily I was able to retrieve them before my (then) plumber husband got home, (he has now moved on to Superintendent of general construction of very large projects) Anyway, he told me if he ever had to pull a diaper out of the toilet I was in big trouble...but then again he never mentioned potatoes! or squash... That day to check I had rescued all the potatoes and the toilet was not clogged or would run over on the next flush. I used the handy bathroom scale to make sure I pulled out all of the 10 pounds, now that's the creative mom in me...just ask.
Anyway back to the ladder thing, you all know it's true. Paintbrush in hand at my age....social security age, sort of...I don't rush for many things, but old habits die hard, and a few times while during my door painting sojourn I have found myself hopping down and running to the instrument of communication. Each time chiding myself for not putting the thing in my pocket, and frequently I found a telemarketer on the line, the dreaded 800 number and now there is added the 799 telemarketer number, but all the same they ultimately want your money for something, some politician, phone service, Internet, or my favorite some illness or ailment.
Now with over 40 years under my belt caring for the sick and not so sick...I have certainly given my pound of flesh, (bad feet and two back surgeries) to the ill and infirm...so feel that no matter what ailment they represent, "I've already given" so get off my phone...and don't ask me for a donation in the market either where I ran in for a gallon of milk, or any store for that matter. Considering the number of times I've gone to the store with a family of seven If I gave just a dollar each time I entered a store, within a very short time I would be flat broke...
So my advice, "I gave at the office" is a good reply, then of course a fun follow up is to ask the person on the line if they think painting the wall blue, or pale yellow would be best with a west facing living room according to the fen-shui method....and request them to come over and help paint since they wasted your time and now you're behind in your project! I asked the person on the line to come over and help paint once...and they HUNG UP! The nerve!
And as batty as you get watching children day after day, you can't ignore them when they're in action, you must have eyes on all the time, I found out the hard way. Longing for an adult conversation, without diapers or sippy cups as the major topic I was talking to a dear friend who had abandoned me and moved away. I was keeping an eye on the little ones...well...sort of...while I was absorbed in the phone conversation and I saw my oldest son Patrick, yes, my husband and I are Pats, and so is our oldest son. Rather fun as he got older and we answered the phone. We sounded like we were a new age religion or something "Do you want...Pat the father, Pat the mom, or Pat the son."
But I digress, I saw Patrick running around with a potato. So cute, trying to be like mom, pretending to be cooking...(to this day he is a wonderful cook...) It was cute until I saw him walking by with the squash I had under the sink for dinner the next night...I followed him to discover the toilet filled with my brand new 10 pound bag of potatoes topped off with the squash. Luckily I was able to retrieve them before my (then) plumber husband got home, (he has now moved on to Superintendent of general construction of very large projects) Anyway, he told me if he ever had to pull a diaper out of the toilet I was in big trouble...but then again he never mentioned potatoes! or squash... That day to check I had rescued all the potatoes and the toilet was not clogged or would run over on the next flush. I used the handy bathroom scale to make sure I pulled out all of the 10 pounds, now that's the creative mom in me...just ask.
Anyway back to the ladder thing, you all know it's true. Paintbrush in hand at my age....social security age, sort of...I don't rush for many things, but old habits die hard, and a few times while during my door painting sojourn I have found myself hopping down and running to the instrument of communication. Each time chiding myself for not putting the thing in my pocket, and frequently I found a telemarketer on the line, the dreaded 800 number and now there is added the 799 telemarketer number, but all the same they ultimately want your money for something, some politician, phone service, Internet, or my favorite some illness or ailment.
Now with over 40 years under my belt caring for the sick and not so sick...I have certainly given my pound of flesh, (bad feet and two back surgeries) to the ill and infirm...so feel that no matter what ailment they represent, "I've already given" so get off my phone...and don't ask me for a donation in the market either where I ran in for a gallon of milk, or any store for that matter. Considering the number of times I've gone to the store with a family of seven If I gave just a dollar each time I entered a store, within a very short time I would be flat broke...
Here are early photos of the Hanrions.
Yes Virginia, Big Pat at one time had dark curly hair and sported Elvis sideburns.
How 'bout my hair on the day we blessed Rebecca?
Little Pat (the potato culprit) is in the toy box...along with Colleen in the last picture.
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