Confession: My kids like to watch Super Nanny. They call it the naughty kids show. Anyway, there's one scene when the father is totally out of control; the child says that he wants a toy back and the dad replies "I want my life back." Our entire family thinks that this might be one of the funniest lines on television.
So, whenever things get wacky at my house, everyone shouts, "I want my life back." This never fails to bring great guffaws of laughter. Unfortunately, it's true! Aren't there moments in everyone's life when they just wish that they could go back to a simpler, less complicated time? The question then becomes: Just how far do you need to go back in time to get to a simpler life; and would you really want to go back?
With the chaos that is my life (the reavers did it), one might think that I'd want to go back to a child free life. I'm not so sure that's true. While it would be nice to have a child free day or two; I can't imagine my life without my children. What about a life without anyone to worry/care about?
I had my adult, living alone time. It was nice, it was quiet, I wasn't lonely. But I outgrew that and wanted more. I do miss those wonderful days of only having one sweet little baby. The ability to expend all of my energy on my precious child. Unfortunately, you don't realize how fleeting those days are until they're over. I've always been a bid sad that none of my other children got that one on one time; that sense of newness, that my first child had. I know intellectually that each child has a special place in my life, and that each one benefited by being born into a large and loving family. But still, I wonder if they missed out by not being a first child.
We've recently acquired a baby parakeet. A friend of the man I married found himself with a slew of parakeet eggs and was more than happy to share the joy. So now we have a bird. The princess insisted on getting a green bird - the middle child and I wanted a blue/purple one, but the princess won. The princess also wanted a girl bird, but alas, I think that our bird is male (don't tell her).
A bit of quarreling left us with "mei mei" as the name. It is an homage to Firefly, and is a Chinese word with a loose meaning of dear little sister.
Now, I love parakeets. They're cute, easy to take care of, live quite a while and make sweet little sounds. Mei Mei fits right in to my dream. Unfortunately, we didn't consult with Ed.
Ed (who can, incidentally, jump quite high for a dog his size) was instantly interested in the bird. We set the bird cage on the table so that everyone could watch as it just sat there (birds take a bit of time to settle in). Ed wanted to see the bird. When he looked at the bird, he wanted to touch the bird. It should not be a surprise to say that when Ed touched the birds cage, the bird squawked. When the bird squawked, Ed got excited and jumped up on the table.
The bird cage is now sitting on the kitchen counter bar. It's at least four feet off the floor. Ed can jump at least four feet. There's nothing quite as funny as standing by the bird cage, talking to the bird and seeing: Ed, Ed, Ed, Ed as he's jumping up in the air.
For now the bird is safe. He sits in his food dish, and hangs upside down a lot; but he's safe. Tomorrow I'll tell you about his first foray into the house.