I almost feel ashamed writing this blog post. I went to the beach last week (work trip for the husband). I’m even going to our cabin for the long weekend. But in my defense, it’s a last minute trip and it’s a miracle it’s gonna happen because it was booked. Not to mention my stepson has a HS football game tomorrow night and we aren’t leaving until after and we won’t get there until the wee hours of the morning. You’re still reading this thinking “Well bless her heart” in a really sarcastic tone, right? But in the words of Paul Harvey…..here’s the rest of the story.

I’m tired. I leave my house going to work on Monday mornings and I don’t return until Friday after work. I don’t see my dogs. Sleep in my own bed. Wash my husbands clothes. Cook for him. Much less greet him or be a warm body when he comes in at night. And that man, y’all. He has a stressful job. He needs that. As much as I need him. With all this being said, know what I miss the most? A leisurely stroll thru Walmart. Yes. Walmart. Everyone I know is posting about our new Walmart grocery pickup. And all I can think is BUT I WANNA GO IN!!

Can I just take a second and give a round of applause, a pat on the back and a hats off to the nurses and caregivers of the world? You are, without a doubt, my hero. I used to say being a Dispatcher for law enforcement was the hardest job I’ve ever had. It was a cake walk, y’all. One of them pie jobs compared to caring for my Granny. I had nights after stressful calls and adrenaline pumped high speed chases I would go into the bathroom at work and sink onto the floor and collapse into sobs. Only to wipe my face and get back up to face it again. But caregiving? I got nothing left. I feel like one of those jellyfish blobs lying on the beach last week. I.got.nothing.

And it’s not just me. My sister Mona relieves me on the weekend. At least I get out of the house during the day when I go to work. She’s here 24/7 the 3 days she’s here. Not sure I could do it. Neither of us were made or designed to be nurses. Florence Nightingale I am not.

We are blessed to have a wonderful caregiver 4 days a week while I work. She comes for 8 hours a day, 4 days a week. I work 8 1/2 hours a day. No, I ain’t leaving her alone. Not even for a second. I’m going in late on those days, not taking a lunch and running to the vehicle each afternoon to hurry and get here to relieve her. There’s about a 3/4 mile stretch from my job until the turn off out of town where she lives. There is one store on that stretch. Family Dollar. Now I love me some digital coupons. And I love a bargain. But I just wanna go to Walmart. Not at a run. In a mad dash. In a hurry. I wanna get me a buggy and meander thru them aisles like I own that joint with nothing but time and money to burn.

Yes, I can go on the weekend. I can see my fur babies, sleep in my bed, and wash clothes. But I don’t feel like it. My house is a wreck. I have a chair full of folded clothes I’m pretty sure has taken root in my bedroom. I cry and tell my husband “I just want my life organized” and “If the kitchen didn’t look like a tornado I would cook”. I have a wonderful husband. But I would be lying if I said this schedule hasn’t taken a toll on our relationship. That along with a few other things I don’t know that I will ever blog about. Pity party of 1, please.

Am I proud I’m able to stay with Granny O? Sure I am. And I do have moments I enjoy my time here. It makes her happy and hey, Buck is waiting on me each day when I pull in the driveway I’m actually worried about having to re-adjust to my home life again someday. This is my new normal. And if that time comes and Buck is still here with us Good Lord willing, not sure I’m gonna be able to leave him. Been threatening to take him home with me since daddy died. That there is the best ole yellow dog since Ole Yeller. He’s something. In fact, he’s a whole other blog post. Stay tuned for that one someday. And bring your Kleenex along.

Anyone who knows me knows that I hang in there like the proverbial hair in a biscuit. As Granny O says, you may give out, but never give in. Repeat to yourself over and over, Kimmie.

This morning Granny O said “I want to go home”. I didn’t come back with my usual “Now Gods got you here for some reason so just hush”. Truth is I’ve mourned the loss of my Granny over the course of the last several months. I want nothing more for her to go home. This earthly body and earthly home is nothing compared to the one she’s laying claim on. What a day that will be, when my Jesus I shall see. And her daughter, my momma. Our Yaya. And Ruby. And Isaac. And Bill. And Jason. Her husband Raymond who drowned while she was still a young bride, pregnant with my mother. Home indeed.

And there ain’t no grave, gonna hold my body down. And there ain’t no grave, gonna hold my body down. And when I hear that trumpet sound, I’m gonna rise up outta the ground…..I can hear that trumpet. Can’t y’all? And it sounds glorious.

Later, y’all….