The Peters family has been up to our usual summer event schedule. We stay up entirely too late, we have a hard time waking up every morning, and we don’t get enough time to do all the fun things that fun moms let their kids do (i.e. go to the pool daily). Yesterday, we helped wrangle some cattle out at the original White Farmhouse, and I was told by my younger brother that I wasn’t any good at helping anymore. I guess that’s a badge of honor you are awarded when you turn 40. That, and he says I talk too much. Old news, my kids have been telling me that for years as they patiently wait for me to get off the phone on a daily basis.
Despite the fact that it is summer, one of the things I look forward to every day is the 20 or 30 minutes I set aside with my boys right before bed when we pile up all the pillows, turn on the fan, look for my glasses (an increasingly harder task), and we read a chapter book out loud together. Our most recent conquest was Superfudge. Now, if somebody would have told unborn me that in 1980 Judy Blume was writing the story of my life at age 40, I would have never believed it. But, here we are in 2021 and I’m living out the story in the book. Well, at least it mimics the antics that take place daily between my uber serious eight-year-old who resembles the older son, Peter, and his fearless five-year-old brother, Fudge, who unintentionally makes Peter’s life miserable trying to be just like his big brother. Most of Fudge’s emotional outbursts are right in line with that of my very own four-year-old. Of course, I’m like their mom who simply rolls with the punches and tries to bring them both down to earth when they overdramatize every event known to man from going to the pool and mowing the lawn to dealing with my late evening work schedule. It can be a little overwhelming some days, but for some reason, it is hilarious to read about it happening to someone else!
We have been running pretty hard the last year and a half to make this crazy real estate dream of mine work. I’ve got a hard working team (both in the office and at home) that gives 100 percent all the time, and we help each other every single day. Especially on the days when our plans don’t go as planned. I might say a few cuss words every now and then, but we haven’t trained our myna bird, Uncle Feather, to speak French yet to disguise what he is really saying. (I won’t spoil that part of the book for those who want to read it).
Most importantly, I treasure my sacred time with my family, and take great pleasure in the fact that we own a comfortable home that is a retreat for all of us at the end of a long day. Even on the days when I am absolutely exhausted, my very own version of Peter and Fudge won’t let me skip at least a few minutes of reading together. I think they need it as much as I do. Someday, I hope they look back on their dear old goofy 40-year-old mom and remember these sweet summer days that go by just a little too quickly. For now, I’ll keep herding my very own Peter and Fudge out the door at two minutes past the time we were already supposed to be at our next real estate appointment. If you hear the yelling, it’s just me giving an “attention getter.” Don’t be alarmed until you hear the bird speaking French. Bonjour and Welcome Home!
