If I were filling out one of the many surveys a longtime friend had sent me via email and the inquiry was not only about the color of my underpants, but also on what my eyes were focusing right that moment, my answer would be this: a leaning tower of papers, magazines, and business cards haphazardly collected on the kitchen counter which, has since grown on me, resembles a Motel 6 counter top from back in the 70's.
I have managed to collect more Family, Parenting, What-to-do-With-Your-Child-When-You-Run-Out-of-Ideas magazines and newsprints than I ever thought could possibly fit on a kitchen counter. Although 'fit' is an extremely loose term in this case. Collecting in the pile are coupons for "Half-off First Months Enrollment," and "second sibling 25% off." I hope that one is for the admission part and not the body part. There are claim tickets for ice cream socials, Summer Reading charts, scraps of torn receipts where I've jotted down the number of a preschool I'd driven by whose sign boasted "Accredited," and "The best place for your child when they're not at home." Coffee rings make their mark on countless publications and on a couple I'd swear it was Ethan's future at risk. Vowing my revenge on Starbucks through gritted teeth, I dab at the dark stain, squinting to decipher the number beneath. My ink-blackened hands pore over the newspaper's Local section one last time, hoping for any missed tidbits of late summer vacation Bible school programs whose capacity hasn't yet been reached.
My emotional remote control is on fast forward, rewind, re-play, time-delayed playback;shall we just say my TIVO isn't hooked up yet. Mason just turned 5 three weeks ago and today is Ethan's 3rd birthday. So why are my brain and heart all mixed up? I count my blessings every day that I'm fortunate enough to stay home with my boys and nurture them and watch them every second of every day. I love them with all my heart and soul. That said, I love to have a few moments to just jam out with my iPod when Matt gets home. I like to go out with the girls once in a while and discuss a beer, I mean book. Get my toes done. Go to the Limited with Jackie. So why can't I get myself up and out?
As of late, it is more difficult to get up and going out of the house no matter the errand. The boys and I stay in our jajammas (ET's term) til 10 or so in the morning. It took me a very long time to finally go to a salon and have the gray covered up in my hair and I just painted over the old polish on my toes that I'm almost sure was pink and plucked my Frida eyebrows. This is not my normal state of being and I couldn't quite put my dry, cracked, flaky finger on it. Until today. I am missing our motivators.
We had someone and something to get up and go for in Pensacola. Our friends were down the street and our routine was one we'd had for years. Even the unscheduled, spontaneous things we did and places we went, were familiar and comfortable. It takes time for people and places to become familiar and comfortable. With the knowledge that this is a 10-month tour, it's that much harder to push myself out and into the world.
I do believe, though, that somewhere among all those ink-smeared publications and torn receipts, is just the right sport for Mason. From under the medium-bodied Cafe Verona darkened circle, an illegible number will reveal its identity and I will find the perfect preschool (ha! he'll never let go!) for Ethan. And the long-awaited call informing me that not one, but BOTH boys now have places in the summer vacation Bible school and I can drop them off Monday through Friday from 9am to 1pm. I don't care whether the nail salon is perfect or not. So now I just need a shopping buddy.
2 comments:
Oh Becky I know those days all too well. Before you know it you'll find your new scene with your new "family" and then have to leave them all over again. Just get drunk. That always works.
yeah, what Anne said...TOTALLY!
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