Spelling out a crazy life

Categorized as  allergies,  boys,  commotion,  dirt,  food,  morning chaos,  noise, A2Z

A:  Big A, little a.  What begins with ‘A?’  Aggravation, allergies, acceleration.  A, a, a.

Of course, I’m not referring to Mr. Schrock’s children who are now all home for the  summer when I mention that first ‘A’ word.  I can’t possibly be thinking of the dirty dishes that multiply like rabbits when my back is turned or the noise level that makes the walls ring or the punching and chasing that’s started up again.  Of course not.

And acceleration?  I’d mention how all that uproar accelerates my blood pressure, but that’s a ‘B’ word and belongs down below.

B:  Big B, little b.  What begins with ‘B?’  Birthday boys and food by the bushel.  B, b, b.   (And boy, can those guys eat!)

Mr. Schrock nearly choked.  Well, he spluttered a little and turned a light shade of purple when he saw the grocery bill (oh, hey – another ‘b’).  They’re hungry when they get up.  They’re starving by midday, and they’re positively ravenous when they come home from work.  When my brother hit this stage, I remember dad saying, “He gets hungry just eating!”  I know now what he means.  Boy, oh boy, oh boy.

C:  Big C, little c.  What begins with ‘C?’ Clamor, clatter, commotion, and chaos.  C, c, c.

Last summer, I recall posting a status on FB that went something like this, “Chaos and confusion, thy name begins with a ‘J.’  Thou art 16 years old and highly underemployed.”  Friends cackled and chimed in, offering condolences and commiseration.  There were, I noted, no job offers forthcoming.  And that brings me to this week’s letter.

D:  Big D, little d.  What begins with ‘D?’  Dirt, donuts, and days in a daze.  D, d, d.

It’s discomfiting, dismaying, how much dirtthose guys bring in.  I’ll bet old folks only sweep once every two or three weeks.  I doubt retired people ever step in grape jelly or find fingerprints on the fridge or milk on the counter that “Nobody” spilled.  When they buydonuts, they don’t disappearwhen they run to the restroom, and there are never any tooth marks in the ones that are left.  Surely they spend their days in a haze of happiness, a cone of quiet, a bubble of bliss…

Aww, shucks.  Sounds like boredom to me.  Maybe I’ll just stick with the whole crazy alphabet – aggravation, bills, chaos, dirt, and all, and say a very quiet, “Thank You” for this crazy life.

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