Well - there are some things you just have to write about. It started out riding the emotional rollar coaster and ended up on the Mexican Train. At my age, that's a winner weekend actually. Going to mom's house means I get to have a sample of what my brother and sister in law live through on a daily basis. We all wear hats so we don't rip our hair out, we also dawn our mittens so we don't claw our eyes out. Not to mistake this for a mommy bashing - it's just that she hears about 1% of what you say and remembers less than that. This week when I arrived, she was sorting cards. Birthday cards, anniversary cards, thank you cards, and yes the majority of cards she owns are, you guessed it, Sympathy cards. At 82 she has many opportunities to send those out! My mom is famous for mailing birthday cards to every grandchild, she always gives them the amount of money for the age they are. I hope I live to be a 100! Well - except she would be 150 and they might not have a birthday card that reads "Holy Cow You're Really That Old?" Not a good age to forget a birthday and have to send a 'belated card' or she might not get to the mail in time. Anyway - cards sorted - projects completed, Grandpa visited, groceries tucked away, and cleaning complete.... Eric, Terri, Brandon, Erin, Gma and myself settled into a FREAKING game of Mexican Train. Nope - never played it before, but after starting at 7:00 pm and ending at 1:00 am - there is much to be said about the time inbetween. For starters - playing Mexican Train with Gma is like - a whole new game every time, explaining it wise. She wanted to put dominoes on every line, the sideways tiles, and always had to have the celestial white train. I'm certain in all my years of playing games with my brother - I've never heard so much swearing coming from his innocent little mouth. Someone (Erin, Brandon and Eric) I'm convinced (I know) had beans at some point of the day and there was NOT enough spray in the can to even phase it. Actually we put the can down and it just kept spraying it was so bad. Then - we had to put out post-it notes on every line with a train on it so Gma would know which one she could play on. This made absolutely no difference at all. So there we were, tired, playing Mexican Train, gassed out of our minds, watching the attack of the killer spray can, swearing, post it noting everything, and totally having the time of our lives. Eric declared that we would need to always play games more often... So the next night.... we did it all over again. I heart my family in Mendon. I loved that on a weekend that started as awful as life is long... it ended with me being reminded that I always have a brother that loves me, a Mom that sometimes remembers she loves me, and a Dad that deep in his forgotten moments of life - held my hand for an hour and a half. I was raised in love, I will leave this world knowing I was loved. I will hopefully leave that love to continue on with my children - love one each other. Because one day, you'll all need a Mexican Train weekend... and I pray with all my heart, that you have enough bathroom spray.
