Too. Tired. to. move.

Sorry.

Run for your life with me.

Last night we made the trip downtown to see the Foo Fighters. It was so good! Even better then the last one we caught, which when I looked was over a decade ago. I jumped up and down the whole time, wore myself to smithereens and drank expensive drinks until Lochlan caught up and cut me off. I had a ball. I would do that every night, closing my eyes, feeling the music thundering right through me, except that I am not operating at one hundred percent and am really tired today.

Only four of us went and PJ kept leaving to rat out people smoking drugs to security which I love him for but is also part and parcel of a rock show and somehow I equate it with coming home and lighting incense. Besides, the smoke only bothers me if it's really heavy and this wasn't so bad, honestly.

(PJ is PJ. He used to be that guy. Now he's that guy's dad.)

They figured I should be a little more concerned as I currently have a lung infection but I reminded them that tweaking my antibiotics and adding steroids have helped so much and I felt good enough to go.


But today is tough. Today I'm maybe a little more than just tired and I can see they're biting back the I-told-you-so's and god bless them for it. We skipped church again but Sam did not. He said a prayer against my head on the way out the door then one against Lochlan's and Ben's too.

Caleb came over and made lunch for us. We ate inside. The heat is on. The tiny lights are on. The house is cozy in the rain, and suddenly, just like that, it's fall.

Small things.

I took Ben a hot chocolate last evening. He's escaped back into his studio at last, back to work, back to creating beautiful things, back to being all but absent, mostly thundering through the house to make sure I'm happy and check in, check in with the kids and with the other boys and then he's gone again.

Just what I wanted, he smiles at me.

A hot drink?

A hot wife. He grabs me and pulls me into his lap and that's it. For the next two hours we remember our own brand of love and when he finally lets go and I can put back on every piece of clothing he had removed, he takes a sip of his now-tepid hot chocolate and proclaims it perfect.

Like you, I tell him.

Far from it, Bee. 

Not to me. I don't bring treats to people who don't deserve it. 

True. True. 

Come upstairs. 

I will in a bit. 

But he won't. He'll work all night and if that happens I'll bring down eggs and toast for him in the morning and then convince him to go nap for a little while, at least.

The most welcome distractions.

How are you feeling? Lochlan wanders past the door every fifteen minutes or less. I can set my watch by it this morning. I'm lying on my back on the floor of the front porch just on the other side of the door. If someone rushes out without looking they're going to crush me but everyone's mostly out today anyway.

I'm kind of worried. 

He drops what he's doing and pushes the screen door open, stepping over me and sitting down on the other side. What's wrong? 

Preseason begins in a week and Bieksa is still a free agent. 

Lochlan laughs out loud. That's the day's tragedy? 

Well...YEAH. It's just like in elementary school when everyone picked their teams for Red Rover and I'd always be the last person left that neither team wanted. I know how he must feel.

It's because your size made you a liability. No one wanted to be the criminal who knocked you down and made you cry. 

Imagine how he must feel then. He's so much bigger. There's no excuse for this travesty. 

I'm sure he's happily kicking back at his house in California, halfway into a welcome early retirement.

If that's what he wants. 

Call him and ask. 

Do you think..WAIT. I wonder if Caleb can pull some strings. 

And find his number? 

No, get him signed! 

To whom?

The Canucks! Jesus, they need all the help they can get this year. 

It'll probably happen. 

Oh. Did you already ask Caleb to do it?

So nothing's actually wrong, then? Because I've got some work to do. 

Your sensitivity is noted. 

He isn't even your favorite player anymore! 

He might be again if he had the right team! 
 

Love you to Death.

You know when you find out that one of your favorite bands are fans of one of your other favorite bands? Right. So Starset just covered Type O Negative and I think I'm so done. It's so AWESOME. Kill me, please.

Prednisone princess.

Sorry I've been away. I got a lot sicker, to the point that more than one boy is sleeping fully-clothed and within arm's reach ready to whisk me off to Emergency as I attempt to breathe at all. The smoke is back in the air and my so-called sinus infection is morphing down into my lungs. Caleb actually yelled at the doctor today to try and make him magically fix me and I had to turn and stare quietly at him, my disapproval all over my face until he tried to justify it as worry, stress and fear.

I'm not going to die. I sound about eight degrees lower than normal, and instantly started coughing.

He ignored my promise and instead wondered out loud if he should fly in someone better.

Give this a few days to work and if it doesn't kick in soon we'll maybe admit her.

No! I croak. No way. No more hospitals. Jesus. It's been a long summer already. Then I cough some more.

I did survive the birthday party for Lochlan, though my speech is on hold until I do feel better and Caleb's been bunking with us two nights straight out of sheer worry. I think Ben is kind of annoyed but Lochlan seems fine with it. He and Caleb are getting along so well I'm in wonderment instead of misery as it is so let's just keep this rolling. If I feel better in a few days and they go back to being at war with each other then I'll have it all figured out. In the meantime I wish I felt well enough to enjoy the extra attention.

I'll try to post more though. I've mostly been sleeping.

Bee's knees (no, literally).

I went back to work today. After being off for almost a month, a couple of trips, a lot of auxiliary landscaping and a round trip to Vegas and Burning Man and now that's over and reality hits.

Hard. It hits like a suckerpunch from out of nowhere, knocking you halfway down into a stagger, as blood drips from your teeth.

Gone are the heavy black platform loafers, changed for light slipproof sneakers that are safety shoes, waterproof and super cushiony because I cried at the thought of running plates and coffee pots after such a break and wondered how much my legs would hurt.

My customers were all different. My boss already fucked up my paycheck and by my lunchbreak I was ready to cash in all the bets and quit but by the time I left I had it under control.

Because that's what adults do, or so Lochlan reminded me with a grim expression today, loathe to force me to be an adult any more than I already force myself.

I won the day, in the end. I also hated to have to do any of it, as it was Ruth's nineteenth birthday, but we celebrated last night so today was almost the bonus-birthday, in that we went out for dinner tonight and she ordered a drink with her meal. An alcoholic drink.  They asked her for her identification while my head nodded into my plate during this most important rite of passage but I'm hoping no one noticed.

She said later she noticed but she understands.

Here's hoping for Wednesday night's party (Lochlan's birthday) I can stay awake.

What an exciting week. So much happening. Back to school. Birthdays. More birthdays. Caleb and the rest should be home in the morning.  Lochlan's weirdly calm, relieved in a way that tells me he really didn't want to take me to Nevada and is really freaking happy we are home none the worse for wear. Or maybe he's just really happy I said no when he asked if I was missing Caleb.

It's not like I've had time to, yet.

Handoff.

One of the joys of the Collective is the ability to move seamlessly from one boy to another, without losing focus.

I'm kidding. Of course I lose focus. I realize abruptly that the red curls are gone and they've been replaced by caramel or brown or blonde ones, and that the hands are softer/larger/less rough. The voice is deeper or the hold is less fierce, more relaxed or more hesitant. Or even tighter, if that were possible.

Yeah.

Sigh.

We didn't go to church this morning, Sam included, though I sat up and threw a pillow at his head as he snoozed on into the daylight insolently. Think he missed us? Hell, yes he missed us. And I am so happy to be home I never want to leave the point again. I'm already looking at having groceries delivered, and maybe we can have a biweekly champagne one as well.

I'm sure there's a minimum, Caleb says as I talk to him on the phone this morning. They're heading home tomorrow morning, barring any unforseen issues. Direct charter flight. Maybe a stop in Oregon. I don't know. I'll see them when they get here. I'm just happy he and August are still getting along or he and Batman, for that matter, or even he and Schuyler. Daniel gets along with everyone, so I don't have to worry about him.

We'll figure it out, I agree. If we can, we will. If we don't, we don't.

You're agreeable today. Good sleep? 

The best. 

They let you rest?

No, I laugh. Sam was exceedingly lonely when we got home. 

He'll live, Caleb promises, hoping I left Sam be.

Of course. Still agreeable, as ever. Still unapologetic, as always.
 

Wear the heart.

Home. I'm always surprised by that word, which still feels so new when talking about the point. Back to my fur blankets and my Maple Leafs one too (the season is a month away!), back to PJ and Sam and Duncan and Dalton too. Back to my children who didn't even miss me, trash-talking me for missing the burn itself, which takes place in five hours.

Sigh.

But onward.

(Onward and upward, Princess. Jacob's voice still narrates every internal peptalk I give myself.)

Lochlan, Ben and I were plucked out of the sky by Sam, who may have missed us badly and lead a surprisingly moving group hug and gratitude prayer over my head once we made it inside the front hall. He was choking up more than I expected and I've come to find out all of the encouragement and excitement before we left, from everyone, including Lochlan and Ben, was manufactured.

Forced.

Faked. 

And that no one wanted me to go.

Somehow they knew up front that this wasn't the place for me and my own hesitations were mirrored and magnified ten fold in themselves and the relief and joyfulness is something I can poke and it leaves a dent when I remove my finger.
 
They found a way to pull it off in a way that let them sleep at night, bless them all.  Caleb and the rest went back to finish what they started because now that I'm gone then can actually relax and have fun.

Oh.

Geez.

But things are different here too. Ruth is suddenly a peer with firm opinions about where I should be and who I should be with. PJ is a hand-wringing parent who knew better. Lochlan isn't saying much past his pledge to let me venture out to the ends of his fingertips but no further and he'll never be further away from that. Ben is adaptable as always but underneath it his relief is the biggest of all for reasons that stretch into his recovery, that isn't ever as strong as August's and to that end he is happy to be home as well.

I'm about to have a long hot bath (head above the surface, don't worry) and then PJ is making a pork roast and potatoes, carrots and asparagus for dinner. Henry said all they ate all week was pizza and chicken and he doesn't want asparagus on his plate if that's okay. 

Pizza and chicken? I look at PJ.

And peas and beans and cantaloupe and pineapple. And milk and eggs. Yeesh. Love how he conveniently forgets that he tried to pay me off so I would let him not have to eat the peas. Christ, kid. 

Henry laughs.

I'm so happy to be home. Did I mention that?
 

The only reason I came here is actually to tell you my husband bought me sweatpants and a sweatshirt and they don't even match and I'm so comfy right now it's SICK.

Stay out of the pool and hot tub, the doctor warns me, as if I feel like visiting either. And same when you get home, until at least Halloween, but better if you waited until Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving is before Halloween..so which?

Oh, right. Canada. Okay, at least twelve weeks for your ears to heal. Otherwise you could cause further damage.

I just smiled at him, for I didn't know what to say. Damaged doesn't begin to cover me, and twelve weeks puts us firmly into space just on the other side of Jacob's birthday and I don't even want to think of that time of year, when the mornings and afternoons are equally dim while the night is black, just like my heart brain soul.

Sure thing. Lochlan speaks for me, holding out his hand to shake the doctor's. Great. Yeah thanks. Thanks a bunch.

I don't feel better yet but I can breathe today. I can't hear anything at all. We're heading out tomorrow on a flight home (decongestants are ready, but am I?) and I remain terribly disappointed in myself.

Leave it all there. Leave all that behind, Peanut. 

I take a huge hitching breath and nod. Trying. 

That's my girl. 

Only five of us are going home. The rest returned for the end. God bless them for coming out with us and God protect as they go back.