My son Brian returns home for his week with me and bedlam prevails.
There are holy jeans, shoes worn to the toe, and socks where the heels are moving toward the arch. When does the destruction fairy slip into our world and go wild with destruction? The laundry suddenly piles up, dishes remain in the sink, and bath towels disappear into a black hole.
I look about as my carefully organized life crumbles into conversations about the big dipper, and how many spoons can we hold up to the sky until we can’t see it anymore. There’s the underbelly of an earth worm to inspect, how many times around the dog will chase her tail, and the number of minutes a piece of driftwood will float with a rock balanced upon its back.
In the middle of one day I get a call from Brian at school. He is in the nurses office. His leg is still bothering him from his skating fall last Thursday. It’s funny how they can run around on their injuries until they are stuck at school. I go to retrieve him, but wonder what he is not liking about school these days. He is limping, but after an hour wait in the Dr.’s office she can only surmise that it is a bruise.
I do note his new shoes from November laying across the floor of the examination room, look like a dragon chewed them up and spit them out. Maybe it is just time for a new pair of shoes.
There goes the new outfit I was thinking about for myself . . .
I get him home, fix dinner, help him with math homework, which may I ask you, Why in the hell is a quadrilateral line parallel to anything and do we care? Is Brian becoming an Architect, or an Engineer? At 10? Good lord.
Why couldn’t he want to be a famous writer? No. He loves Math. It’s my penance for making out with Steve Cochran in high school.
As he is asking me for help, I am trying to imagine two adults in bed and exactly how our positions would work to create a quadrilateral and who would be taller. Whatever way I can get my head wrapped around his math problem and help solve it I say. As I am straining blood capillaries in my brain, Brian says, “Oh never mind – I know this one.”
My head hurts.
I cast my eye around my messy place and recall how quickly a day can go when you spend it around a kid . . .
I am in the kitchen washing dishes and Brian calls “Mom”. I reply with “Just a minute” but a minute won’t work so I stop what I am doing to go to his room for him to show me he can spin a top. Then he says he’s hungry. I fix him a snack with the dishes half done. Before I can finish putting the snack stuff away, Brian’s friend comes in through the back door, letting in the cat who is now hungry, and to no surprise, so is the friend. I make another snack and tell Brian to feed the cat, which makes the dog want something. Brian feeds just the dog and leaves the bagged food next to the pet feeding area. I, of course don’t see this because I am making a snack to give to Brian’s friend. My mother is knocks on my front door (because my house can’t ever be clean when she pops by). She brings gifts from her Hawaii trip. Then the boys take their shoes and socks off in the living room and spread Brian’s new gifts across the floor to admire. My gift, a wooden bowl gets set on the counter because I think I need to wash it before putting it on a shelf to collect dust from non-use. I notice the coffee table has pencil shavings from the homework Brian started, along with glass water rings and rubber bands. The ice pack is on the floor next to 4 pencils, three crayons, a dog toy, a napkin and more rubber bands. What is it with boys and rubber bands..? Finally my mother leaves and i realize I need something from the grocery store. I ask a neighbor to keep an eye on the boys and I race madly to Safeway. Once home, I fix dinner, eat and then begin dishes again only to have Brian interrupt me for more homework help. Once we are done with homework, it’s time for Brian’s shower. Suddenly I notice that I need to do a load of laundry because he has no socks for school tomorrow. He finishes his shower, we read, the clothes go in the dryer, the dishes into the dishwasher and at some point I fall onto my bed with a book. I wake up at midnight with the book on my chest and the light still on in my room.
Maybe I should just clone myself.
Until next time-