I ran away from home this morning.
I made it to the pier and back again, yet never felt my direction change. A fleeting hour passed before I cut back through the soft sand, turned the ignition and returned to my responsible agenda.
I ran away from home this morning.
This winter waged a lengthy war against color, and even my spirit has surrendered the last of its bright hues to wave a solemn white flag.
Sometimes when the kids say or do something funny, and I don't have a pen nearby to jot it down, I call home and leave a message. I do this because I will quite literally forget if I don't capture it quickly and permanently somewhere other than my overloaded and understaffed brain.
It's a language in which the words vitamin and Spiderman sound exactly the same and in which context is your only chance for deciphering whether she needs her daily dose of iron or wishes to enlist the help of a web spinning super hero.
I don't know what I would do for a Klondike Bar, but I'll tell you what I'd do for some Trader Joe's dark chocolate covered almonds with sea salt.
I'd strap in the little people and drive 79 miles and two states away. Yes, you heard me. That's a smidge shy of three hours of round trip driving, with a four and two year old, to go to the grocery store.
And if that makes me crazy, then I don't wanna be sane. Okay, that's not entirely true. I do want to be sane, and I don't want to be caught one Mighty Bite shy of a full box. I just want my sanity and to eat my Chipotle Hummus too. Is that too much to ask?
So we won't even attempt to answer why I did it, but perhaps you're curious how I did it?
With hands up in the air, waving wildly around, he shouted, "All the single LAKES! All the single LAKES! Put your hands up!! Cuz if you like it then you shoulda put a RAIN on it!"Great Lakes and Finger lakes need not apply. We only want to see the SINGLE lakes out on the dance floor for this song. And seriously, do you not love how he carried the water theme throughout his erroneous lyrics? Oh, I love that boy.
Tonight as we were winding our way through the bed time routine with the kids, I turned my back to Larry to put away the books about cheeky engines and altruistic trees. Given our history, I should know better than to turn my back when my antagonistic husband is within an arm's reach.
Yes, indeed, Mama got spanked.
Now my children have been known, on occasion, to mimic every last thing they have ever seen us do or say. So you can understand my concern that they might take their father's actions to mean it is acceptable to begin randomly slapping the behinds of innocent bystanders within an arm's length radius.
That's why I shot my best silent "what-are-you-crazy--do-you-not-remember-they-take-copious-notes-of-everything-you-do-with-the-intention-of-repeating-that-word-and-or-behavior-at-the-most-embarrassing-and-inopportune-time-for-me??" look. (Sheesh, if you think that last sentence was hard to read, you should try typing it.)
But apparently my face alone is not as articulate as I would like to think, as no sooner did I shoot the look, he teased, "I didn't do it. It wasn't me!"
At this point Caed chimed in, "He's lying, Mom! He DID do it. I saw it. Daddy, you're not supposed to hit or lie, you know."
Now Larry is a smart man (AND he knows what love is, so pretty talented really, especially in comparison to Forest Gump). He quickly clued in to the very literal perspective of his four year old, and took one for the team, "Daddy was teasing Mommy, but you're right, it isn't okay to lie. I shouldn't have done that."
Caed shook his head in admonishment of his Dad, as he tried on the hand-me-down inflection from this tired old mama, right over top of his chirpy little voice:
We'll start with the breakfast happy, only because it's first on the timeline, and not because it made me the happiest. You'll just have to believe me that my children make me happier than chocolate. Most of the time.
1) This morning I got chock full on a chocolate chip muffin. And to make matters better, these bad boys are considered legitimate breakfast food. It's all the chocolatey goodness without the guilt, essentially a cup cake without the frosting. But because we attach the term "muffin" to it, we can classify it as a socially acceptable companion to our morning coffee, as opposed to say, decadent, frosting-covered chocolate cake. (Not that there's anything wrong with that, Steph.)
“Hang on a second, I’m in the middle of something.”
Give me a dime for every time I say that to my kids, and we’d be all set with the college fund.
But time isn’t going to hang on, and my little people won’t be little forever.
If motherhood is a game of Keep Away, then I want to stay forever in the middle, lunging and jumping as fleeting, ungrippable moments fly above me.
I purpose to live, laugh, love and bask in the middle moment, not to pine for the moment behind or wish for the moment next.
I will soak up the second I’m in.
I will run in the right now.
If motherhood is a game of Keep Away, then I say, “Game on!”
"The foolish man seeks happiness in the distance; the wise grows it under his feet."
-- James Oppenheim
What do you call it when you get a winter storm (in March) that drops over a foot of snow at your doorstep?