A quiet house isn’t all it’s cracked up to be


It’s been a quiet week at my house. At first, it was great. No fighting, nothing getting broken — okay, I did break a knife trying to cut cheese, but it wasn’t my fault. What kind of knife breaks cutting something as soft as Velveeta?

Anyway, after I got home from dropping the kids off with their grandpa, I didn’t know what to do first: empty the DVR that gets full because I never get to watch my shows or sing show tunes at the top of my lungs because there was no one here to tell me to stop.

Or, maybe I would practice the piano because there was no one here to tell me I couldn’t because they needed to practice for contest or camp, even though when they sat down to play they didn’t play anything they were supposed to be learning for either of those things.

I know. First, I will eat junk food for dinner because there is no one here for whom I have to set a good example.

It wasn’t long before I realized doing these things alone sounded great in theory. In practice, not so much. It’s no fun singing at the top of my lungs with no one here to irritate.

I cleaned out my DVR, and now I have nothing left to watch. Well, that’s not entirely true, because “Friends” is still on Netflix and I will never tire of watching every episode over and over. I’m pretty sure I could do a one woman production of several of the episodes. Especially the one where Phoebe changes her name to Princess Consuela Bananahammock so Mike is like fine, I’m changing my name to Crap Bag — “First name Crap, last name Bag. It’s fun, it’s different, no one else has a name like it.” I better quit before I start quoting the entire episode. And in case anyone is interested, Phoebe’s song “Smelly Cat” lyrics and guitar chords can be found online.

My mom said the boys fight too much. My dad said my mom and I must not remember all the fights my sister and I used to have. Fighting is a part of being siblings, he said. He also said he’s mellowed in his old age because it doesn’t bother him. I definitely agree with that. My boys get away with way more than my sister, brother and I ever did.

I told my parents that my dad needed to give Reilly a little taste of military school — I know those Navy skills are still in there somewhere — and my dad said Reilly has been perfectly behaved since he’s been there. He even eats dinner without complaining.

So now I look like a liar.

He even lost a tooth and the “tooth fairy” left him a dollar, which he requested be exchanged for quarters so he could share it with his brothers.

What? Why can’t I have that version of Reilly? I get the version who punches his brothers and then screams bloody murder and tattles when they punch him back.

Even though the boys are in Arkansas and I’m in Oklahoma, I’m still having to get things ready for camp. I had to buy them Jazz shoes which apparently differ in size from their street shoes so I had to reorder and have them sent to my parents’ place. Fingers crossed the second pairs fit. Still waiting for their bow ties to be delivered, so I may have to buy those again and send them to camp with their teacher instead of ordering online and risk not having them in time.

This summer has gone by so fast. School enrollment is the day after they get back from camp and then comes school clothes and supply shopping.

No rest for the weary.

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Reach Kathleen Guill at 580-379-0588, ext. 2602.

Reach Kathleen Guill at 580-379-0588, ext. 2602.

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