A tisket, a tasket...

I stole a purple basket.
I didn't mean to.
But I did and it made me cry.

Last week I watched as the neighbors across the street moved out.
Every day, for 4 days moving vans showed up and people loaded them up.
Furniture, clothes, toys and home goods came out of both doors-
the front and the back.

On Friday, before they left for the night
they placed a huge stack of stuff next to their garbage cans.
A dolls house with its roof smeared with magenta nail polish,
2 chairs and a table without its glass top,
a child's motorized car, something that looked like a hammock,
a broken bathroom vanity with a shell shaped sink and
a stack of Easter baskets...yellow, blue, pink and purple.

After they left I asked my husband did he want to go garbage picking with me.
Truth be told I had my eye on that doll house.
He said "I don't think that stuff is garbage".
I said "Yes it is..Look! it's all sitting next to the garbage cans".
We waited til dusk because, you know, um.....garbage picking.

That is when we saw that most if not all of this stuff was damaged in some way.
Like I said missing glass, smeared polish, broken wood.
But I saw that basket and it was purple and sparkly and I grabbed it.
We linked arms and sauntered back home in the very near dark
with my newly acquired basket looped over my arm.

Imagine my surprise when later that night the neighbors came back!
They brought back the van to finish loading the rest of their stuff!!
They loaded everything except that broken bathroom vanity and sink.

In my ear, as I watch them thru the living room curtains with one horrified eye,
my stupid husband whispers  "I told you it wasn't garbage."

Crap crap crap!
My entire body went hot then cold...I wanted to throw up.
I wanted to run it over to them quick but I was embarrassed.
Too embarrassed to admit that I had gone through their stuff.
Too embarrassed to admit that I had stolen their purple basket.
They packed up the rest of their "garbage" and left.
I don't know where they went nor do I even know their names.
But I have their sparkly purple basket.

My husbands whispered words made me feel even more shameful.
When our grown son came home, I told him what I had done.
I asked his advice...what would HE do with this basket?
He suggested giving it to the Goodwill Store.
NO! I yelled. I like it....I want to keep it.
Except it isn't mine...it doesn't belong to me.
I don't know how I will ever enjoy it now.

I felt ruined. I shoved that basket in a bag and put it
in the spare bedroom, refusing to look at it, trying not to think about it.
I prayed to GOD asking Him what to do about it.
I confessed it to my sister at our Bible study and cried when I told her.
She said that I hadn't taken it in a malicious manner, and she believed
that GOD would forgive me for it.
My husband said-"I bet they don't even know that it's missing".
My son agreed with him.
They both also guessed that this family would assume that
this basket had accidentally gotten thrown out or lost in the move.

God forgive me, but I started to believe them.
I had to or the guilt I felt would have eaten me alive.

I realize that this really is a small thing here...
I hadn't robbed their home. I had mistakenly assumed that their
junk sitting by the garbage cans was meant as trash.
If I could undo it I would.
If I had the chance to go back in time I swear I wouldn't take it.
I have learned my lesson well. Garbage picking isn't for me.

So now that I still have this basket...what do I do with it???
Will I ever be able to use it or enjoy it without feeling guilty?

What would YOU do?


>Spray paint this basket a lavender type of purple and add some sparkly glitter...and there you have it.

1 plus 3 = I hate math

My husband came home for lunch today at noon.
He walked in the door and complimented me on how nice my hair looked.
He wondered if I liked my hair cut, and said that I appeared happy.

My hair cut appointment is today at 2:30..... (sigh, men.)

I had just finished changing our 2 year old granddaughters diaper.
It is her 3rd diarrhea diaper of the morning....(sigh, kids.)
As I was changing her, I saw our 5 year old grandson sprinting
for the bathroom...sick with diarrhea himself...he didn't make it
to the bathroom in time...(sigh) more shitty laundry.
(lest you forget, my husband stated that I looked happy.
I assure you...I wasn't)

Got a call this morning from our other daughter.
She needs a sitter for 4 days next week.
Her babysitter got called out of town on a family emergency.
She wants to know if I can babysit for our 1 year old grandson.

So in case you're doing the math folks...
That means that THIS granny will be watching all 3 grandkids next week.

3 grandkids all at the same time.

3

Three

A one year old, a two year old and a 5 year old.

So let's DO that math, shall we?!?

There is 1 of me.
There are 3 of them.
I will be babysitting 1 girl and 2 boys for 4 days.
One will arrive at  7:00 am and stay til 6:00 pm
Two will arrive at 7:45 am and stay til 5:00 pm

2 of the grandkids still wear diapers.
1 of the grandkids has daily accidents in his undies.
They all feed themselves...give or take a few bites shoveled in by granny.
How many cans of Spaghettio's will I need? How many juice boxes?
They all constantly take off and lose their little socks.
They will all need more than 1 change of clothes during the day.
How many loads of laundry is that?

How many fights will I break up cuz  "He's not sharing?"
How many times will I say "It's her turn, now?"
How many times will I shout "Stop chasing those dogs?"
Where are your socks? Pick up your toys? Do you hear me?
Give it back?  Go Potty?  Spit that out!   No No NO!

And 1 final question-
Granny is going to the liquor store after she gets her hair cut.
She needs to buy more Pinot Grigio for next week.
By the time next Friday rolls around, approximately how many
glasses of wine will she have consumed each night after all 3 of
the grandkids have gone home?

Little Bunny Foo-foo

Last summer we found a baby bunny in our yard.
Adorable doesn't adequately describe it.
Our neighbor started feeding it little bits of lettuce.
He would set out leaves of Spinach or Romaine,
sometimes stalks of Celery or Carrots sticks.
Every morning the leavings would be gone.

We would stumble across it on occasion, hiding under the lilac bush.
Poor thing in a panicked and frozen state...
So still that even the dogs didn't notice it was hiding there.

It was fun to watch it getting bigger over the last months of Summer.
I always wondered where it's mama was.
It seemed too tiny to be all on its own.

When Autumn and then Winter came around,
I must admit that I forgot about it.
Until one day when the temperature was freezing
and the wind was blustery and the snow was flying.
Looking out the window at the snow coming down,
I saw it running, its ears flat back, over the frozen mounds of snow
While the shadow of the neighborhood hawk cruised over its head.

The next day while I was shoveling the driveway I see
a tiny little pile of what looks like coco puffs...Yep...bunny poops.
I have to tell you that I was thrilled to know that the hawk hadn't caught him.

I realize that Rabbits can do so much damage to plants and shrubs
But I was pulling for the little bugger to make it, to survive and thrive.

Last week I noticed a carcass on the road in front of our house.
I squinted through the window trying (hoping) to make out if it was a squirrel.
We have so many squirrels in our neighborhood and our road is so busy...
There is always a squirrel or two laying in the roadway.

But the fur was different. The shape was different. And I knew.
And it made me sad to think that it almost made it home.
It was 100 feet from it's little hidey-hole under the lilac bush.
So close to safety when a damned car took its life.
I was glad that at least the hawk hadn't taken it.

I watched as the city truck came along and scraped up
what was left of it and I have to tell you that I cried.
I cried over a silly little adorable bunny.

What's the moral to my story you ask?? I don't have one.
Easter is a few days away and there are cute pastel bunnies
and chocolate bunnies in every single store.
It feels like a constant reminder.

I want this story to have a happy ending.
I want there to be some sort of redemption.
But there isn't.
And I'm sorry that I told this story so close to Easter.