A Feast

Today, the baby dragged a basket of pretend food down the stairs and announced, "I am making a feast. Will you help me?"

But I was busy.

So I said, "In a minute."

And while she put together french fry cakes and brownie shrimp with her baby dolls, I checked my email, washed the dishes, vacuumed the carpet, washed loads of laundry, reconciled a bank account...and missed out on a once in a lifetime opportunity.

She made her feast, and it kept her occupied for almost an hour. Every five minutes she would ask, "Are you not busy, yet?" And every five minutes I would say, "Almost not busy." And eventually she gave up.

And long after we'd finished up the day. Long after she was tucked safely into bed...I came across the remains of her feast. A feast she would have shared with me, if I hadn't been too busy.

It made me so sad that I briefly contemplated waking her up and apologizing. Instead, I cried a little because life seems so hard to prioritize, and memorable moments seem to float by...barely out of my reach.

And so tonight, I resolved to be less busy tomorrow. I'm hoping to wow her with my doughnut/ice cream/asparagus creation. It's a delicacy around here.

And I am determined not to miss another feast.

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A Mommy Fit

It's 5:00 pm and I am directing the after-school homework session.

There is resentment, frustration, an inability to understand basic math, and a decided lack of love for the written word.

The kids aren't happy either.

We make it through four sets of spelling, math, silent sustained reading, handwriting practice, and research on the planet Jupiter. All the while listening to the small planet researcher explain how unfair it was that her teacher wouldn't let her research Pluto. And "isn't it unfair that Pluto was unceremoniously stripped of it's planet status". And when she is President, "her first official act of office will be to reinstate Pluto to the family of known Planets, 'cause who cares if it's spinning on a weird axis."

Meanwhile all of the children who are finished with homework would now like a second snack/to play outside/to play the Wii/to watch a movie...all at the same time.

It's enough to make me begin to spin on my own weird axis.

Then the baby starts to throw a fit because I say she's had enough juice for today and needs to drink water or milk.

As I watch her temper tantrum unfold, for a moment I am jealous.

Right now, I would love nothing more than to throw myself to the floor and begin to flail my arms and legs around with little regard for what gets in the way.

I play out the scene in my head.

The kids would stand horrified at the fit their mother was throwing. They would cover their ears in amazement as I screamed out,

"I don't want to. I don't want to do homework. I don't want to make snacks. I want to take a nap. I want to take a shower. I want to read a book. You can't make me make dinner. I won't do it. Never, ever, again. I'd rather eat dirt than wash laundry. Laundry stinks. You can't make me do it. I'll never drive anyone to another practice again for as long as I live."

The tone of my voice would reach a fevered pitch just as Daddy walked in the door.

But, I would just continue banging my head on the floor and grunting complaints into the carpet.

In desperation my family would call in the big dogs.

Fire rescue, police, and ambulance EMTs would crowd into the room shaking their heads, unsure of their next move. In disbelief they would stare.

Meanwhile I would crawl on my back and continue shouting at the ceiling and everyone within a 4 block range, causing a crowd to gather, "You don't love me. If you loved me you wouldn't make me do math. Math is too hard. I just want to eat chocolate. I'm never doing math again."

Finally, they would turn to the only source of help they had left. And in the door would walk...my mother.

She would take one look at me and nod her head knowingly. With wisdom she would shoo the extra people out of the room, disperse the crowd, and shut the door.

Turning to my husband and children, she would tell them gravely, "It's a Mommy fit. They are rare, but the only cure is to let her cry it out, and then give her a hug and cookie."

Then she would hang up all the backpacks, put the lasagna in the oven, and direct the kids out the back door to play. After a few minutes, the lure of her chocolate chip cookies would coax me up off the ground, where she'd be waiting to give me a big hug and then be on her way.

I smile as my "all in my head fit" comes to a close and I contemplate how un-grown up I looked in my daydream. The baby stops crying, and I realize that the kids have actually put away their own backpacks for once and are all reading on their own for fun.

I hug each one and pass out the cookies.

We've all earned them, and just for good measure, I have two.

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We Interrupt This Epidemic...For a Blog Post

Boose had a fever. Not a big deal, right? The next day, Nod came down sick. Then, Bal didn't feel so well. And then, can you guess? Jare and Baby.

Not so bad. I can handle this. I've got a plan in place. And so, even though my living room floor was covered with pallets, and I bought enough 7-up to supply a 3rd world country...I had a handle on things.

And then I started coughing.

And then my head felt like it had been repeatedly caught in a slamming car door.

Then, my fever began spiking...and don't even get me started on the Tom Selleck hallucinations.

Sick. The mommy. The caretaker.

And just to prove that he is the World's Greatest Dad/Husband/Medicine Deliverer, the love of my life took a sick day for tomorrow to take care of those of us still recovering.

Here's hoping you guys are all well.

Think un-germy thoughts, my friends

And if you were planning on dropping by my house...enter at your own risk.

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My Mom

Reeling
Not knowing where I am
Fear and doubt are closing in
I will not make it through
I cannot make it back

And then a voice

The one that quieted childhood fears
The one that soothed illness and hurt
The one that chased bullies and welcomed friends
The one that sang O Holy Night and couldn't keep from crying
The one that said "I love you" more than ten times every day
The one lifted in prayer
The one firm in disappointed chastisement
The one tender in forgiveness
The one that taught me how to love and live

She speaks

Words of comfort and care.

You'll be okay.
I'm right here.
You're stronger than you know.
It's just a phase.
He'll lift you up.
He knows your name.
I love you always.

And I am whole.

***Happy late birthday, Mommy. Sorry that technical difficulties prevented me from posting this earlier. You are my hero and I still want to grow up to be just like you. I love you...always and forever.

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