Wednesday, April 19, 2006

They really Love each other

With the end of April rapidly approaching, I can no longer take my ostrich approach to getting my taxes done. It is time to get my head out of the sand and dig in to the mess I call my financial papers. Generally, I am a keener, the first in line to get my taxes done, the first to brag about getting a refund back. This year, however, the thought of sifting through all the papers and receipts is almost too much to bear. I fear any reminder of the child I lost could set back all the progress my hubs and I have made. But the tax man waits for no one, grieving mothers included. So I did what any responsible citizen would do, I grabbed a bottle of the good stuff and a box of kleenex, and attempted to tackle the mountain of paper which I had heaped in my closet and ignored since October.

Now normally, I am hyper-organized. Much like Monica on Friends, I like everything in it's place. But things quickly got out of hand after the funeral. Instead of bills and receipts being filed away in their appropriate folders, they were stacked on top of condolence cards, homework, junk mail and basically any other piece of paper that found it's way into my home in the last six months.

A bottle of vino, and a few tissues later, I had it all stacked and sorted. And it wasn't near as painful as I thought it would be. (That could be attributed to either my iron-like fortitude, or the fact that I was downing a fifty dollar bottle of wine. Who knows.) In the end, I was left with all of my tax related papers, a stack of well wishes and one or two reminders why I chose to have children in the first place.

Amongst various poetic ditties and Picasso-like art pieces, I discovered my son's ode to his sister. Perhaps I should worry. But I think, unless the eggs start disappearing, we will survive.

10 Comments:

Blogger Lindsey said...

I found your site from the Sarcastic Journalist, and after reading through it, my heart goes out to your and your family. But it seems like your have wonderful support and that you are making progress in your healing. The picture your son drew is adorable. I'm an elementary teacher, and these are the kinds of assignments that make me remember why I love my job, just as you remember why you are a mother:) Also, anyone who tries on a string bikini has to look good in it...otherwise there would be no trying it on in the first place!

12:37 p.m.  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

AHAHAHAHAAH Hilarious. I would throw eggs at my sister. What a loving young lad. :)

2:26 p.m.  
Blogger Sandy Hatcher-Wallace said...

I have read your other site about your little
Angel Boy and I just can't begin to imagine how you feel, but I can offer my sympathy.

My grandson & his wife lost their 21 month old daughter on Oct. 15, 2005 and their loss is almost more than they can bear, but they have turned over their lives to God.

I hope you got your taxes done.

4:14 p.m.  
Blogger Mom101 said...

I know all about procrastination when it comes to financial matters. I currently have an 8k (yikes) amex bill from business travel that was due, um, yesterday, and I'm not going to get reimbursement from my firm at least for another two weeks. Probably because I haven't done my expense report yet. But I'll be darned if I didn't find time to comment on like 342 blogs today.

Good luck with your taxes! (and love the picture)

9:21 p.m.  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I am LOVING on your son's drawing.

10:07 p.m.  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

That drawing is funny as hell! And if it makes you feel any better, I only did my taxes a week ago.

12:18 a.m.  
Blogger My float said...

Taxes, bah, humbug. I hate taxes. I hate all official documents.

I am your alter ego - the one who leaves those papers lying about amidst other paper wreckage. Please come and fix it up!

6:17 a.m.  
Blogger craziequeen said...

LOVE the ostrich picture, T - instant smile!!

Thank you, hon!

cq

3:01 p.m.  
Blogger T said...

Taxes... yeah if I had eggs I'd throw it at the tax collectors.

7:35 p.m.  
Blogger Her Bad Mother said...

I love your son's ode to his sister. No greater expression of love than the desire to hurl eggs.

And, I still haven't done my taxes. I like to live on the edge.

12:10 p.m.  

Post a Comment

<< Home