Crazy

Mike and I have lived oh... 8 or 9 different places in the past 7 years. It seems that most places we live, the people geographically closest are the neighbors we know the least.

Did that make since? I am experiencing brain loss so if you don't understand what I'm saying it's not you, it's me. In the last post I spelled the word "wear" (as in you wear clothes) "ware". And I knew that was wrong. I thought and I thought and couldn't come up with the right way to spell it. I tried "wair" and that looked even worse so I just stuck with "ware." whatever. Ya'll are sharp. I thought you'd figure it out.

So anyway, about my neighbors.

It's possible they think I'm crazy.

More than likely they think I'm crazy.


I'd think I was crazy.

Take our current duplex mates for example, every now and then when the kids are asleep and we are resting on the couch (next to the stairs) we hear their footsteps. That's all, their footsteps. They are a little younger than Mike and me, have no kids and a couple of dogs. They are pretty quiet.


We...

...are not quiet.

I've asked "J" (neighbor) if he can hear us, he told me no. I can't imagine that being correct.

He probably just didn't want to have to ever admit that he thought there might be child abuse in the house and failed to report it.

I'd go into all the ways we make noise, but if you have ever been around preschoolers, you can imagine. It's loud. I discipline. Children cry. I sometimes use an "outside voice" when trying to get through to the kids. Jack jumps. Ty falls down stairs. Mike plays guitar hero. Dogs bark.

I'm just always too embarrassed about what our neighbors might think of us already to invite them over. "Oh, no... we're not going over there. We'll stay on our safer side of the building." Is probably what they'd say.


Here, I'll give you a story from this week:


Our yard needs mowing. It's got dry grass that is a little scraggly looking and needs to be trimmed for the winter. I decide I'll let the boys ride their vehicles across the street on the sidewalk while I mow. I can watch them just fine and it will only take me about 5 minutes to be done. The street is not busy.


So, Jack gets on his helmet and then his tricycle and heads across the street. He turns left and starts to ride. I stay back and help Ty get his Cozy Coupe across. By the time Ty and I make it to the sidewalk, Jack is at the next to last house on our street.

I holler for him to turn around now.

He doesn't hear.


I watch to see if he will turn around on the driveway of the last house.

He doesn't.

The only thing I can do now is run his direction till I'm in shooting (I mean shouting) range.

So I do. Remember I'm pregnant? Just checking.

I jog/sprint down to the end of the street. Jack's turned the corner and is heading around the block.

I yell again.

He hears this time.

"Jack, come back!"

He says something back to me that was not able to make out. Then he turns his head away from me and...

keeps riding.

I look back down the street toward my house. I see Ty.

He's in the middle of the street --bawling.

I've run off and left him. Ty's worst nightmare (he's a bit of a mama's boy).

So here's our status:

Jack's speeding toward the second busiest street on base, Ty is in the middle of our street, crying. I'm standing halfway between both of them, and "J", my neighbor is on his roof putting up Christmas decorations.

I'm sure he saw it all.

Crazy?

You be the judge.