An Evening on My Own

There is nothing more humiliating than paying a library fine - for movies!  We just hadn't gotten them back, and wanted to watch them, so I wrote the check for 25 dollars, internally reminding myself that this money might be considered a donation to this wonderful public institution.  The librarian was very nice - said not one word to denigrate me for irresponsibility - smiled happily when our transaction was finished, and directed me to the shelf of new books that had just arrived.

With no one else waiting on me, I slowly perused the shelves of shiny spines and colorful lettering looking for familiar authors and intriguing titles.  I pulled a couple to hang on to, grabbed another one from the display table, and moved toward the self-checkout, comfortable that having done penance earlier I could take these books without a guilty conscience. 

A few minutes later I found myself in the frozen food section of Target - looking for meatless options that were both quick and easy.  Mesmerized by the lights and bright colors I wandered up and down the aisle considering the food choices available and my own wants and desires.  Finally, a PF Chang's frozen meal spoke to me, and I moved on to the Wine aisle.  There I picked a cute little purple box of wine...I couldn't wait to write that...and headed to the checkout.  Ahead - an evening at home, all by my self.

It is pretty unusual for me to have the evening with no one else around, and without having to consider anyone else's needs, and upon arriving at home I was somewhat uncertain how to proceed.  I put away the dirty dishes, then picked up the clutter left from a busy day.  Finally I opened my first book, "poured" a glass of wine, and snuggled into the comfy couch, secure in the knowledge that when I was hungry I would cook.  This was a moment to treasure.

Happy Friday. 

Spreading his Wings

"Have you got clean underwear?"

"Yes, Mom."

"How about your toothbrush?"

"Yes, MOM."

"Belt? Black shoes? Pajamas?"

"Mom,  I don't wear pajamas; I'm wearing shorts to sleep in.  And, yes, I have all of those."

"Black socks?  Will it all fit in the suitcase?  Did you remember toothpaste?  Do you think you will get hungry?  How about snacks?  Will you know what to wear, when?  Remember you must wear a white t-shirt under your dress shirts, and black socks with black pants.  Also - don't eat or drink anything from the mini-bar, it costs a fortune.  Do your homework. Don't forget to be polite, friendly, but watch out for yourself.  Watch your curfew, don't go running by yourself...I know trace qualifiers are Monday.  Pick up after yourself, don't leave the place a mess.  Be ready to go on time, shower, brush your teeth..."

What more can I tell my fifteen year-old as he heads off on a weekend field trip with DECA?  I guess these situations are a chance for him to figure things out...and he'll be fine.  It'll be me who will be a little lost this weekend.

"Do you have a wallet?  Did you put the cash in it?  Can you keep it safe?"

"MOOOOOM!"  

"I love you!"

Cast Impressions, cont.

The reality is, despite my enthusiasm, having a cast is a big pain.

My mother-in-law called me a couple of days into my life with a cast.  She was calling to give me some advice.  "Ellen," she said quietly, "you will have to allow some people to help you, you know.  I broke my arm years ago, and hurt it by rolling up the car window.  I was so proud."  Her words struck a chord and my eyes welled up with tears; I was already struggling with having to ask for help.  "I've got to run.  Take care," she said and quickly hung up.  I held the phone away from my ear, a little frustrated and a lot worried. I've joked with my family about willingly giving up control of many aspects of my world - often - how happy would I be give up laundry?  The reality is, though, that my identity is wrapped up in many of those things that were going to be hard for me to do for the next six weeks.

Who knew that I would miss doing the dishes?  I'm not obsessive about having a clean kitchen, but I do like to have the dishes clean and the counters wiped up before I go to bed.  The first week and a half my family and I struggled around whose responsibility it was to do the dishes. Initially, I ran the water in the dishpan and loaded the dishwasher in the hopes that someone would take a hint.  Then, after waking up multiple mornings to dirty dishes in the sink, I began to consider other options.  I finally decided that my mother-in-law was correct, I was going to have to ask for help with this one.  If my spouse had cooked dinner (which happens daily; I know, lucky, right??) then he shouldn't have to wash dishes...and in fact, isn't it time for my fifteen and twelve year-old children to learn how to clean up the kitchen?  Aha, having a broken arm would be a good learning experience for the kids...brilliant!  So, now I have my clean kitchen in the morning when I wake up.  However, I have had to mediate the process of deciding who is washing each evening.  I know now why I have done this myself for so long...

Asking for help has never been easy.  There are a lot of things that I have just had to modify for myself in order to make them happen.  Typing, for example.  Everyone was so glad for me that I broke my left hand...I'm right-handed.  But, the reality is I don't write much - I type lots...with both hands.  The doctor asked if I was going to need any accommodations or help at work; hmm - a secretary?  Not happening.  So, my left hand perches awkwardly over the keyboard and the fingers stretch out sporadically to hit those keys on the left hand side.  I've found myself typing right-handed and resting my left hand to reduce the pressure and swelling...I'm getting better at texting, but typing one handed is slow!

The end is in sight, though.  Next week I will have this cast removed, a new set of x-rays to confirm I'm healing, and hopefully the opportunity to wash the stinky, shedding arm really well!  Then, back on with another cast for the final two weeks.  Right before spring break I should be cast free - and very appreciative for all of the help that has been given!

Cast Impressions

I was always a little jealous of people who broke something and got to wear a cast.  How awesome, I'd think, to have all of that attention - from parents, from doctors, from other students.  Cool decorations really made the cast eye-catching.  I was envious that those with casts could accessorize in a way that wasn't available to me.  I managed to move out of childhood without a broken bone, much to my dismay and my parents' relief.  However, just two weeks ago I was initiated into the broken bone club - once I got over the pain and shock, I was gleeful:  A cast, at last!

Truly it was an idyllic morning.  I was walking through the William and Mary Campus - a light dusting of snow covered the cobblestones - and the sun glistened in the early morning sky.  I felt young, like the college co-ed that I had been over twenty years ago.  Contemplating the great minds that have called Williamsburg and the W and M campus home, I know I was daydreaming about intellectual greats and infinite possibilities.  Moving with vigor, I started across a crosswalk, only to pull up short when I realized a tow truck was coming by.  The abrupt change in motion, caused by the slippery cobblestones caused my feet to slip out in front and my body to slam down on my left arm.  Sensitive to the passing truck, and mortified, I leaped up (insisting to the driver that I was ok) and kept walking toward the building where I was meeting a friend.  Once there, the consensus was injured, and a trip to the ER was in order.

Later, in the Emergency Room, my arm was splinted and a fracture was confirmed.  It was touch and go there for a while, the doctor couldn't see anything broken.  But the radiologist confirmed a break - and the Dr. determined a cast would be necessary, once the swelling went down.  How exciting!  A cast, at last.  I selected a lovely royal blue (school colors, of course) and picked up a gold pen for students to write on it.  Finally I had a cast!

Tomorrow's episode:  The downside!

A Very Productive Day

I don't enjoy being mad.  In fact, I go to great lengths to avoid getting angry, but perhaps I should re-think that. Something this morning caused me to feel great tension and frustration.  I couldn't do anything about the situation so I:

-removed the dust from all of the flat surfaces in my house

-cleaned two bathrooms

-vacuumed every single dustbunny I could find

-wiped down all of the kitchen counters

-put away all of the dishes

-helped the kids clean their rooms

-took oldest child shopping for necessities

-took youngest child shopping for necessities (separately)

-washed and folded 6 loads of laundry (there is one left)

 I'm exhausted, but proud of my productivity.  Do I feel any better?  Not yet, but perhaps after an episode of watching Mr. Carstens and Mrs. Hughes on Downton Abby, I might feel like I lived up to their standards!  Certainly Lady Mary couldn't have accomplished what I did today. 

A Nail Biter...

When he was young, I loved going to basketball games.  We moms would sit on the bleachers and watch the exciting parts; well, we would talk mostly and would cheer when the ball was shot near the hoop.  He called me out one day early in his second season though.  "Mom, you don't see any of the game - all you do is talk to the other moms." 

Guiltily, I realized he was correct, so I worked to stay more focused on the games.  However, I have to admit, the joy I took in going to his games was both from watching him on the court and from spending time talking to the other moms about raising boys. 

He's fifteen now, and we are just home from the first game in the playoffs, and this was an incredible game.  We moms didn't have a chance to talk to each other, the intensity of the game was relentless.  Gasping and cheering, we were totally focused on our boys on the court - incredible shots and the wrenching misses,  fouls called by the refs and the fouls missed by the refs, and the raw energy pulsing up and down the court. 

Gone are the sweet little boys who looked so cute chasing the ball down the court.  Replacing them are lithe and lanky young men seriously implementing the team's mission.  I still do love going to his games: the chance to visit with other moms is invaluable, especially at this age.  But we moms are more often gripped by the incredible athleticism, fluid collaboration, and great sportsmanship on the court that shows how much these young men have grown.

They Won.  Championship Game, next weekend.  Whoo HOO!

Back in the Saddle

So many activities are just easy to pick up and do - even after months of not doing them.  How often have you heard, "It's like riding a bicycle, you never forget how to do it."  However, I'm finding myself a little rusty and a lot apprehensive that, as I begin this month of daily writing, I have forgotten how to do it.  Am I up to the Slice of Life Challenge?

Oh, I have written in the last 11 months, but not much that I could call slice-worthy.  My writing has tended more along the lines of field trip slips and shopping lists, letters to parents and justification memos, or thank you notes and evites. I'm out of practice.  Delving once again into the details of daily living, thinking about and considering details that might disappear in light of the whole day, but sparkle when explored up close, this is writing for the Slice of Life Challenge - really, how exciting to be poised to try this again.   

What makes the Slice of Life so enticing?  The feedback that on occasion magically appears at the end of my post - the connections, the agreements, the polite disagreements - YOU are the reason that I am picking up the figurative pen, again, to try the SoL!  Thanks to Tracey, Mary, and Leah and all the rest of the slicers who will motivate me to share wee details of the days of our lives through their thoughtful comments - and get back into the daily writing habit.