Oh, dear God. Ten days since my last post. I’m slipping. I don’t think I’ve tweeted for over a week. My time management skills have all but vanished. I feel like I shouldn’t even be sitting here typing now, what with the Ikea returns, the grocery shopping, the trip to the bank and the car wash that should happen within the next 2 hours and 45 minutes when I have to pick up G.
It all feels non-stop lately. Not in a bad way. Just in a… Way. The goings-on are constant. The cooking, cleaning, laundry, shopping, replacing this lamp and that duvet. Running the dish washer for the 100th time in a week. Trying to organize the closets, figure out how to put more money away, and fit in a hair appointment before my roots hit the tops of my ears. All in between doing what I love the most: spending time with G-Man.
He turned four last Sunday. There was a party. I stressed out through the whole thing as usual, as if four-year-olds need anything more than a bouncy house and some sugar to keep them happy. I stressed as though I was throwing the wedding of the Century, instead of a Batman party. I cried when I ruined my mac and cheese. I cried. I’m serious. I felt like such an ass afterward, but I cried. Of course, this came on the heels of finding out that the helium tank we bought had no helium in it. So naturally, I cried. You would have, too. (No, you wouldn’t have. But, shut up.)
G is four now. And he’s amazing. The Friday before his birthday, I had the privilege of spending the last three hours at school with his grandmas. (My mother-in-law was in town for the week of G’s birthday. We felt so blessed. And we were so bummed when she had to go!) We served the kids pizza and the muffins that G and I made. Then I read the class some dinosaur books, and G got up to teach them about his favorite dinos. I’m so enthralled with his ability to learn new things, and to want to teach them to everyone else.
We’ve been playing this game he made up called, “Excuse Me, Miss.” He says, “Excuse me, Miss but I have no mom or dad. Would you like to be my mom?” Then we go over all the things he’s looking for in a mom, and all the things I’m looking for in a son.
“My son has to like dinosaurs”, I say.
“I LOVE dinosaurs!”, he replies.
“My son has to like dogs”, I say.
“I LOVE dogs! Dogs even love ME!”, he replies.
Then he’ll say,
“I really like super heroes. Do you have any super hero toys?”
And I’ll say,
“I have a whole BIN FULL of super hero toys!”
Then he’ll say something like, “This is gonna be GREAT!” And we grab hands and act all excited that we get to be mom and son. Then I tell him I can’t wait to introduce him to my husband, who he just happens to look exactly like.
We’ve been playing it for months, but it just recently got very detailed. It’ll go on and on for a half hour sometimes. And each time we play, it makes me feel lucky that I DO get to be his mom. It also makes me see how fortunate we are, and how much stuff we have filling up our lives. It’s perfect, really. Right now, in our small house with the three of us.
I just wish every minute of the day wasn’t filled up with to-do lists. I feel like their used to be time to luxuriate for just an hour or two during the day. It’s important to replenish, and I don’t feel like that happens much anymore. Maybe I just have to add it to the list. Or walk up to a masseuse and say, “Excuse me miss. I don’t have a masseuse. Would you like to be mine?”I mean, it totally works for Garrett.