After a crazy hectic tax season last year, things seemed to be falling into place by mid-May. I came to the realization that perhaps Bonus Child had been acting out so much during those two months I worked because I had disrupted the schedule she had gotten used to. Now that work was over, she was starting to settle down. Youngest Son made us proud at his college graduation in early May, and we were beginning to get excited about our upcoming beach vacation in mid-July. Oldest Son and his fiance spent the month packing up their belongings to drive across the country to begin their lives together in California. Her dad flew out to help them move, and we got to meet him for the first time at a going-away barbecue they had their last night at their emptied out Pittsburgh apartment. It was sad to see them go but I could tell he was excited about the move and I was happy for him.
We spent most of June having fun in the sun. I was able to spend more time with Bonus Child while Bonus Baby had fun at preschool and we often invited Bonus Child’s school friends over to swim. One of her friends lived within walking distance and had a sister about the same age so it was a month of giggling and girl drama. Middle Son J was away for army training for a few weeks but would be home before our vacation. We were enjoying being able to spend some quality time with Youngest Son. Things were going pretty well…until the s**t hit the fan.
The girls and I were home alone the last week of June while Big Daddy and Youngest Son were driving a U-Haul across the state to set up Youngest Son’s new apartment where he’d be moving in early August. While they were there, we found out that Middle Son J suffered a serious training accident. He was told that his army boot saved his leg from being lost. I don’t know how, I don’t know why, and I can’t believe they let him…but as bad as his leg was, he insisted on finishing up his last few days of training so that he wouldn’t have to start from the beginning at a later date. This, of course, was not helpful to the leg. Nor was the flight home which, with the fluctuations in air pressure, made his leg swell up to look like some giant purple melon ready to burst open at the seams. But before I could even assess how bad things were, before he or Big Daddy or Youngest Son came home, our air conditioner croaked. And it was the hottest week of the year! I had to scramble to find someone to fix it so my injured son wouldn’t even be in more misery!