What on earth to say about this day…

What on earth to say about this day…

Should I tell you about crying in the kitchen?  No.  Should I tell you about…nope on that one too.  Ugh.  I feel trapped by reality and writing, readers, honesty and imperfection.  Hmmm.

So I will tell you about some afternoon moments, before things became complicated and after they were sublimely beautiful. 

The afternoon was slightly upside down.  Moose actually slept, drooling and snuffle breathing in the crook of my arm.  I slept too, with a rolled up towel in my lower back.  I did so to the hum of an electric spine.    For the first time in many months I wasn’t the backup for all the neighbors and I let someone else pick up my children.  Sweet Big Guy called me to make sure it was okay to go home with a neighbor…dear boy. 

I made blueberry pancakes for the children after school, then announced my intention to NOT cook dinner.  We had soup coming out of our ears and the fridge was bulging with leftovers.  Sister was delighted by afternoon pancakes.  Big Guy was not.  Moose asked for a cookie, then a brownie, then a cookie.  Thankfully friends showed up to distract his sugared mind. 

Burns was supposed to be working, so he planted himself on the floor in the middle of the family room.  He looked tired, burdened, possibly not in love with his for now job, overwhelmed with being tossed in a financial sea of student loans and pay cuts.  He mostly wanted to be left alone, to grumble and muse his way through the next chore.   So I planted myself nearly on top of his laptop, right in his lap.  There wasn’t room for the two of us, the lap top and myself, so I made myself quite indispensible.  And for an hour I tried to wiggle and flirt the grumbles right out of him.  I’d like to say that I won, temporarily.  However, eventually he retired to the bedroom where no one could distract him as effectively as I distract.  So then I lost, perhaps. 

The children were racing through the house.  Sister was disciplined for telling the neighbor girls about Big Guy’s adoration of slumbering with stuffed animals.  It was a perfect opportunity to implement a gag order on further information -  on any subject that had to do with her brother.   Mostly because none of us wanted to see Big Guy’s crush dwindle into horror in case his baby sister unfolded his sentiments publicly.  We were all sort of holding our breath that sweet sister could keep his private thoughts private and at the same time reminding Big Guy to breath.  Each time he walked through the room I gave him encouragement to just play, just be a boy, don’t apologize for loving stuffed animals, don’t kill your sister, don’t trip over the sweet blond girl who also loves catching lizards in the backyard, and don’t bring the lizard in the house because he is spitting blood all over the shirt I have to iron. 

He breathed.  Sister apologized and reconfirmed her commitment to just ‘be cool’.  Moose sprayed the water on my shirts and watched in fascination as I pressed the wrinkles into smooth cloth.  Yesterday’s soup simmered on the stove.  The cornbread reheated in the oven.  The whites were nearly done, just as the towels were folded.  My pain was level enough not to turn my face gray and gaunt, but pressing enough that I didn’t notice when my fingers touched the hot iron, all three times.  And dad worked away in the other room.  I wondered if I were him, carrying his burdens…if I’d work in the other room or if I’d let my wife sit in my lap until I burst into a thousand giggles. 

At the end of it all, Sister threw her brother under the bus by exposing his slumbering addictions to fluffy creatures, but held his secret safe.  Big Guy managed two hours in the presence of an angel and only fell into a few pieces.  The lizard was caught, tortured and released, as with any wild creature in our captivity.  Moose was a super trooper when his siblings were distracted with good-bye’s, helping me iron, setting the table, letting me tickle him until he burst into a thousand giggles.  And I?  Well.  I hurt.  But I accomplished much.  I made a few delightfully happy.  And doing so gave me a measure of peace.