Just Write {177}

March 3, 2015

I made them pick up all the Legos, again. They thought it would be way too hard, again, and threw UGHHHH at me. One asked me why I always make that terrible threat, that I will sell them. (The Legos, not the children.) I don’t know, I said. I guess I just figure that if you can’t clean them up, I don’t want them here. But you’re right, threats are kind of lame.

From downstairs I could hear the clanking of the plastic, the distinct Lego sound. The boys found a system, of scooping with a plastic bin’s lid, like a dustpan. Then one of them appeared next to the couch, hopping up and down and asking for food. His brother was right behind him, asking to play the XBox. Their little sister abruptly stopped playing to ask to watch a movie, if her brothers were playing XBox. I looked at all three of them, in turns, still somehow astonished at their moment by moment requests. I laughed. I said yes to everything. It’s the weekend, we’re finally home together, not running. Have at it. Eat all the things, spend some time on the screens, play, lather rinse repeat.

In the midst of it all, they did what siblings do. They fought, tattled, whined, lather rinse repeat.

I repeated myself, took deep breaths. Made eye contact with the window pane, staring out, trying again. Did dishes, talked on the phone, changed the laundry, put things away, worked a little on a laptop, but stopped a lot to break things up, take the breaths, be their mother. We made it through, and the boys even played outside for a while. We are cabin-fevered like in most places right now, and this did them good, the fresh (freezing) air.

My insides want the outside to warm up so much it hurts. I want to sit outside, just for five minutes, comfortably, taking in the sun, a breeze, the smells of spring. All of me is aching for spring.

At night I read with Elsie, then we both lie down. I tickle her back, say prayers, remind her to be still and take deep breaths to calm down and just.be.still. She falls asleep and I drag myself upright, ask her brothers to brush their teeth. Ask them again. Ask them to be quieter for their sister. Remind them to brush their teeth again. I breathe deep and remember that I don’t want them to grow up. I really don’t. They are already breezing through the seasons, no matter how long winter lasts.

We head downstairs after all the reminders and they draw and read, while I sit on one bed one night, the other the next. I draw or read too, but we mostly end up talking and laughing. This is when the Big Questions come from them, and I try my best to help them see their lives as beautiful, even though explaining what it means to be human hurts a lot of the time. These bedtime meetings are fleeting, not at all like a movie or a greeting card. The conversations come in flashes with constant interruptions and then a deep breath, in which I pray some kind of random lesson here and there will stick. They giggle and look across at each other, roll their eyes sometimes. One bites at his nails and the other bounces, even while lying down. His arms go stick straight and he jumps up with his butt and his legs flop. He makes a face, and they fall into laughter like it’s the best joke ever, and it is.

:::::

This is the 177th installment of Just Write, an exercise in free writing your ordinary and extraordinary moments. {New here? Please see the details.} I would love to read your freely written words so join me and link up below. You can add the url of your post at any time. Just be sure it’s a link to your Just Write post, not to your main page. (Then link back to this post in your Just Write post so people know where to go if they’d like to join in.) (Any links not following those two guidelines will be deleted.)

Also. Please take a moment to visit someone else who has linked up! It’s a really good way to meet new writers and get inspired by the meaning behind their moments. Word?

Share on FacebookShare on TwitterPin it on PinterestShare via emailSubmit to StumbleUpon

{ 0 comments }

Just Write {176}

February 24, 2015

I went around town putting up flyers for a Story Show that I’ll be hosting with my friend Riley. We’re planning on having people read stories around the theme “Home” on the Saturday of Easter weekend, from the stage of the New London Little Theater.

This is something to look forward to, something creative, something like food for my word-y heart. I’m grateful.

Everywhere I went with flyers, I had to ask for tape, to hang the flyer. This is how I roll, hanging things up, with no roll of tape. And every place I went, I was met with the familiar faces that make up Home, and tape was handed over counters and flyers were hung from boards and windows and doors.

It was a cold cold walk, waking me up, and I thought about how it is always best for me to have as little time as possible alone with my own thoughts. My friend Jean reminds me often that if my mind should go There, to the place of Me and Me and Me, it is time to change the topic. This almost always means doing something for someone else, right? So I did, and there it was, the peace that passes understanding and all that.

After the flyers, I went to The Building and worked and I opened the mail. Papers from a pediatric cardiologist, bills, junk. Stress is close all the time these days, and I said the Serenity Prayer more than once. Then last night, after reading myself to sleep to avoid the butterflies in my stomach, I woke up to Miles standing by my bed. 11:08pm. This can only mean one thing.

So began a completely sleepless night of waiting for the next round, washing bedding, rubbing his back, cleaning up god-awful things. There is nothing like a sick child to change the topic.

I would lie awake waiting for the next round and I would say that Serenity Prayer some more and I would hope with all my might that the other two will not get it, that I will not get it. That’s what I did, until I heard the next “Mommy!”

But whatever will be will be, even though this Friday is the consultation with the pediatric cardiologist for Elsie, and the bills, and the missing work for sickness. Sometimes I think my head may explode, but my heart wants to get there first. There is nothing to do but wait and hope, sometimes get mad and cry, and just keep going.

It is not all about me, and I am back to learning it the hard way. I am falling straight into the abyss with Recovery as the only net because with Recovery comes change for the better and I need it so much. Being a sober person is never done. I don’t have a desire to drink, not in the slightest, and yet I have the potential to drink, and even more, the potential to self-destruct by way of my own brain’s stubborn propensity to throw me.

Life ignores what you think you need and want immediately–now, now, now, and it is only in the surrendered waiting that we see something good was coming the whole time.

Today I am here with this sweet sick boy, and his skin is pale and I have disinfected everything I possibly can other than his thirsty tongue. (I would wash that off too but I think he may draw the line there.) This is what we do, we try to control all the outcomes, but we can’t. So I’m going to let go of the big and little things, while I wait. Then I’ll forget and try to control it all again, and then I’ll remember, I am only here to serve.

:::::

This is the 176th installment of Just Write, an exercise in free writing your ordinary and extraordinary moments. {New here? Please see the details.} I would love to read your freely written words so join me and link up below. You can add the url of your post at any time. Just be sure it’s a link to your Just Write post, not to your main page. (Then link back to this post in your Just Write post so people know where to go if they’d like to join in.) (Any links not following those two guidelines will be deleted.)

Also. Please take a moment to visit someone else who has linked up! It’s a really good way to meet new writers and get inspired by the meaning behind their moments. Word?

Share on FacebookShare on TwitterPin it on PinterestShare via emailSubmit to StumbleUpon

{ 1 comment }

Just Write {175}

February 17, 2015

Somewhere it was said that it was the coldest Valentine’s Day in seventy some years, in this here great state of Minnesota. The boys went with Auntie K for a good part of the day, and Elsie and I had some time together. We went out for lunch, slurped some noodles together, we picked up movies, and ran from door to door, never spending more than thirty seconds outside. It is the kind of cold that bends you up, tightens your muscles and keeps them stuck. It is a searing frozen fire, swiping at your skin. It wears us down by now, we hearty Minnesotans, makes us want to hide. The elements will do that. Life will do that. All the things we cannot control, will do that. And still, while dreading the cold and then rushing through it all day, Elsie must have said “I love you” at least 25 times. She [...]

Share on FacebookShare on TwitterPin it on PinterestShare via emailSubmit to StumbleUpon
read me →

Just Write {174}

February 10, 2015

I see him coming and fill a to-go cup with coffee, add two pieces of ice because he takes it a little cooler, every time. I hand it to him as he walks to his table and he laughs. He joins his friends at table one, where they’ve ordered without having to say how they like their eggs done, I already know. He takes cream, he doesn’t. He drinks his coffee really fast, he doesn’t. They give me a hard time, I give it back. We laugh a lot. The jokes are not at all funny, but we pretend they are. Three ladies come in and talk about their favorite things to order, tell me the Reuben was a little too spicy for them. They order soup and rave about it, as everyone does, because this is The Middle Fork. One of the owners comes in to relieve me and I rush over [...]

Share on FacebookShare on TwitterPin it on PinterestShare via emailSubmit to StumbleUpon
read me →