Seven Year Itch?

Seven years is a long time.

It's long enough to become the member of the family that can only be looked up to metaphorically. At  some point along the way, Oldest, Middle, and Youngest have all felt the need to pull back from a  hug to exclaim, "you're so little!" Relatively speaking, they are not wrong.

It's long enough to go from living under the same roof to the closest living most of the year nine and a half hours away and the furthest not living on the same date as the rest of us for most of our overlapping awake hours. The math has become tricky.

It's long enough to have lived a life on the run, full top-secret intrigue that I only once imagined might be real. And if it is, I still can't tell you. That's rule number one. So you'll never know for sure that it didn't happen.

It's long enough to have finally finished all the hidden cookies, both at home and at school, inducing an epic nap in my favorite spot on the sofa. One that makes Rumpelstiltskin look like an amateur. The location of the cookies has changed; the spot on the sofa has not.

It's long enough to not even try to explain or make excuses about where I've been, or more specifically, why I haven't been here.  Or why I'm back. Or to wonder if waiting seven years was deliberate; a patient writer looking to reemerge with a clever title for a post.

Seven years is a long time indeed.

SOLSC and Maya Angelo

“Making a decision to write was a lot like deciding to jump into a frozen lake.” 

― Maya Angelou

If I didn't know better, I'd think that Ms. Angelou had participated in the SOLSC. If we're being honest, most of us think it's a little nuts to commit to the challenge of writing daily at this time of year...sort of like leaping knowingly into a frozen lake. On the other hand, there is the hope that the exhilarating jolt of jumping in with both feet will shock us out of the lethargy brought on by the long dark cold days of winter.

Either way, at the end of the month, we can look back and say we're glad we did it. In fact, most of us  already know we'll do it again. Sort of makes you look at those who jump into frozen lakes with a little more respect, right? A decision. One that may initially appear crazy, but in the end is worth it...for one reason or another.

The Hunt

When The Three were little, Easter morning always started with an egg hunt. Oldest was joined by Middle and then Youngest, and they would carry baskets from room to room, trailing strands of plastic grass as they searched not-so-high and more-often-low for colored eggs. In recent years, the hunt has been a little different. One Easter morning, they arrived downstairs to find little notes in the places the baskets usually waited. That was the first year for the Easter basket treasure hunt. The clues led them all over the house and outside--math problems, book titles or events, poems, songs, riddles and jokes. Some clues were easy; some required more time and thought to solve. Clue led to clue until the treat-filled baskets were found.

This year Oldest is not home for Easter, and the rest of us will get up early to drive to visit out-of-town Grandma and Grandpa. It will be fun, but I'll miss the hunt. Even though there will still be special treats for The Three, I think they will miss it too. We could do a hunt with just Middle and Youngest, but it's more fun with all of them, and it would have to be a short hunt...where's the fun in that? Part of the fun is watching them grapple with a particularly hard clue. In fact, that's the best part. Doing the hunt part way would mean losing the stuff that makes it fun, so we'll just wait for next year. Of course, this does give me a lot more time to come up with some good clues...The Three are pretty clever, and I could use the extra time.

East and West

This morning, I started my day curled up on the end of the long sofa where I can look up from my book and see out the East-facing dining room windows. I like watching the sky get lighter through the branches of the trees behind our fence.

Tonight, I settled in on the other sofa, where I can look up from my computer and see out the West-facing windows that overlook the front porch. I like that I can see darkness fall down the sky behind the trees in our neighbors' yards.

I feel a little like the shadow cast by the gnomon on a sundial; my feet a pivot point on the ottoman as I move from one sofa to the other, East-facing and West-facing.

Things I will never say

"I don't think we have room for any more books."

"I love roller coasters!"

"I'll take the brussels spouts."

"Chocolate and coffee are overrated."

"I hope we get a chance to bungee jump."

"Live where there are not any trees? Why not?"

"I'm never going outside again."

decisions

Sometimes easy decisions are hard to make.

Like this morning, when I was at the store and stood in front of the bookshelves with Oldest, talking about what books and authors and series we've both read and both want to read. He walked out with one. I left with nothing because I couldn't decide, but that's ok, because I'll read his, and Middle already gave me one she had finished.

Tonight, Youngest and I couldn't decide what we wanted to have for dinner. After a bit of discussion, we realized that the heart of the problem was that we both really wanted snacks. He wanted ice cream; I wanted chips and salsa. The part we couldn't decide was what "real" food to have first. Ultimately we didn't decide on dinner. We each ate a banana, thinking that might count for any sort of healthy eating requirement if someone asked. Then we ate snacks.

I thought my toughest decision tonight might be what to slice. I was wrong. The whole time I've been typing this (how do my fingers get this done when my mind is on something else? strange...), I've been contemplating whether to read here on the sofa after I post, or up in my bed. I'm already here, and so is the book, but my pajamas and the big comforter are up there. I'm not sure what to do. It shouldn't be that hard, and yet here I sit, wavering.

unexpected

Today when I got to work, these were on my desk, along with a card and chocolate.
No special occasion.
Not a treat from Husband.
A friend was there when I was not, and left them behind.

On a day with too many things to do,
blustery cold outside,
and the
weight of stress-filled
recent days,
my desk suddenly looked appealing.

My day started with an unexpected surprise,
chocolate to go with my coffee,
and the scent of roses
every time
I entered the room.

I think I blew it...

I'm pretty sure I messed up, even though I was just trying to make someone feel special. I just didn't think it all the way through. Take a look--this is a text message conversation I had with Middle while I was at Youngest's swim meet tonight:

Me: Go to this on your computer and read this: slicesfromthesofa.blogspot.com
(last night's post was all about Middle)

Middle: K :)

Me: Do NOT click the link on your phone--use ur computer
(sometimes she forgets she does not have a data plan)

Middle: K :)

Middle again: I love it!! P.S. I read some more posts and now know about dads food hiding. Let the search begin :) mwah ha ha!!! :)
(oh nuts...I forgot about the post from the night before...in which I reveal Husband buys extra cookies and hides them so Oldest, Middle, and Youngest don't eat them all!)

Me: Oh no!! That one was a total lie...:) Actually he did leave both bags out this time...one got finished already because u all eat a lot of cookies

Middle: heeheehee...I'll have to keep an open eye in the future...this is very valuable information :)

Me: oh hush...don't ruin the special mother daughter thing
(sending her that link was to make her feel special...and look what happened!)

Middle: ok, love you :) :)

Like I said, I really blew it....

eye to eye

When I stand facing Middle, we look each other right in the eye. She claims she's taller, and she may be right. When she wants to lay her head on my shoulder, she has to lean a bit. She's tall enough now that I can lay my head on her shoulder. It's a little strange. We are very close to being just the same size. It's true there are a few minor differences, but we can wear each other's clothes, and she has handed a few things down to me. We don't share shoes though. Middle's feet have been bigger than mine for at least 3 years. She's going to be tall, like Husband.

Middle sometimes comments on what I'm wearing (and apparently I'm either lucky or have good taste--she only says nice things) and helps me know if the back of my hair looks ok. She asks me about her clothes or hair sometimes too, and I take it seriously. After all, not all 15 year old girls want to know what their mothers think about such things.

Sometimes Middle and I like to go out together, just to run errands. We feel like it's important that we stick together. After all, at our house, boys outnumber girls. I tell her often that I need her and that it would not be cool for her to abandon me to all those men. She laughs when I say that. We sort of like the men at our house, big and small. That doesn't mean we don't appreciate a little girl-only time every now and again.

I still feel a little start of surprise every time Middle and I brush shoulders and when I turn I find myself looking right into her beautiful brown eyes. While it's true that we sometimes push each other's buttons, more often than not we like being together, side by side and eye to eye.

Cookie Monsters

I can hear Husband in the kitchen. He's looking for cookies...some of which have been eaten. I'm sure he thinks it was Oldest, Middle, and Youngest who opened the bag and started eating. He's mostly right. I will admit to opening the bag first, but it has one of those nifty resealable flaps so you can't really tell it was opened until you peek inside and see some are gone. But only a couple were gone after I was there. I swear. When the kids went to get some cookies, Husband and I were not in the kitchen, and they were all careful not to ask how many they could have. They took the simple, "yes, you can have cookies" and ran with it.

Homemade cookies are what I really want, but I wat way too tired to make them today and Middle disappeared all afternoon and Oldest only believes in eating them, not making them. Youngest wants to learn but still needs a lot of help. I just didn't have it in me today.

Luckily for all of us, Husband went to the store for me today. He buys cookies. Now he's out there, looking to see how many are left. Good thing he had the foresight to buy 2 bags. And he knows to hide one (yes, I know where, but if you think I'm telling, you obviously do not know me well). If the kids ever realize he does this kind of thing, they'll probably start helping carry in groceries, at least when he does the shopping. Until then, I can be sure that there are cookies, even if Oldest, Middle, and Youngest don't know it.

The Good and the Bad

The good news is that today is Friday.
The bad news is that I've been feeling off all week.
The good news is that there was one more open appointment at the school clinic.
The bad news is that I have strep throat...again.
The good news is that I got to go home in time for the tournament games on tv.
The bad news is that I kept falling asleep and waking up to a different game.
The good news is that there was a lot of good ball being played.
The bad news is that I did not choose wisely when filling out my bracket.
The good news is that after a bath, I was warm for the first time all week.
The bad news is that the fever came back.
The good news is that I got the good meds.
The bad news is that I am not a patient patient.

The good news is that while I snuggled under a blanket, Husband picked up dinner, Oldest volunteered to go to Youngest's music event for me, Middle did some cleaning before leaving for the evening, and the good and the bad of the day provided a slice.

March (is) Madness

March made indeed be what madness is all about.
On the first day of spring, I woke to cold and blustery winds and snow on the ground and in the air. With less than a week until spring break, kids at school watched out the window as thick snow fell faster than moral when they realized it was too cold to go out for recess.

Spirits are high as tournament time starts. The opening games are a mix of expected domination and unexpected upsets. Games are close then blowouts and everyone roots for teams they know nothing about for the sake of their brackets being right. TV, phone and internet keep us all plugged in and from down the hall groans or cheers are heard close on the heels of the alert chimes of smart phone apps.

At school, March is no man's land. Too far from the end of the year to be excited, but long past memories of the long winter holiday break. Just as we get to start school mornings with at least a bit of sunlight, daylight savings plunges us right back into the dark, and the light-later-than-usual evenings are still too cold to venture out in.
March is madness all around.

You know how...

1. You know those moments when you're working with kids, and one says something brilliant and you wish there was a camera on to capture it? Well, today I had a camera running.
2. You know how sometimes the secret-back-up stash of chocolate is full enough that every time you reach deep into the back of that hard to get to drawer there's more? Well, today there was.
3. You know how there are things you want to run to the store for but it seems like too much work and somehow someone reads your mind and picks up that exact thing? Well, today Husband did that for me.
4. You know how on some days you know you should do something and you really want to but just aren't sure you can, and then you manage to do it? Well, today I kept my tired eyes open long enough to slice.

I didn't even know I needed to know this

One of the most interesting gifts Youngest (a big believer in interesting things) has received over the past few years is a subscription to Mental Floss magazine. It's packed full of stuff you didn't even realize you wanted to know. The current issue is beside me on the sofa, open to a page with a bunch of riveting facts about time.
Here are a few:

Did you know that a $1 bill circulates for about 21 months, while coins average 25-30 years? Anyone who digs around in my school bag or purse could tell you that. There are never any bills. There are always coins.

We all have heard that humans need about 8 hours of sleep. A giraffe only needs 1.9. A cow needs 4....huh....who knew I was sleeping more like a cow than a human? Something to think about. I'l like to try sleeping like a giant armadillo. 18.1 hours. Maybe not all the time--I'm just saying it might be nice to try it once.

Apparently, chimpanzees spend 6 hours a day chewing. Really? Chewing what? Must be something other than bananas, right?

Know how long the average hug is? 3 seconds. The journalist who compiled all this stuff and more into a book says that a day is about 28,800 hugs long. That's a lot of hugs, even if you have a lot of people to hug.

See what I mean? This magazine shows up, and every time, I learn things that I didn't even know I wanted to find out. Maybe I should  find out how much time I save each month wearing shoes with no ties versus those with ties...or count how many hugs long a slice take to write...

Nephew and Nonner Mommy

Tonight I went to my oldest nephew's senior music recital. To say that he's a talented musician is an understatement. Nephew can play just about anything within a few minutes of picking it up. Next fall he'll head off to college to continue to study music. He's going to love it.

This is the boy who I held in my arms for the first time not long after we discovered Oldest was on his way. The boys grew up together. Nephew and Oldest were quite a pair, and have come so far since the days of banging on pots with wooden spoons and playing a mean Barney Banjo....for long periods of time.

When he was very young, Nephew called me Nonner Mommy....he already had one mommy...I was the "nother"one. Tonight as he collected congratulations from assorted friends and family, I reached up to give him a hug and tell him what a great job he'd done. A voice much deeper than it used to be replied, "thanks Nonner Mommy!" I'm not sure which of us had the bigger grin.

These little piggies...

These little pigs once belonged to my grandmother. After she died, these were among the things my aunt brought out for my siblings and cousins to look through. I'm not sure why, but I found something very appealing about these little guys. They are salt and pepper shakers. I have no memory of ever seeing them before my aunt brought them out, but I know they must have lived in a cupboard or maybe out on a counter or tabletop at Grandma's house. But surely I would have remembered that--I mean, I'm not sure that I could have resisted playing with them if they had been on Grandma's table. They look like the kind of pigs would need to have a conversation or do little dances or run away from the steak knives.
I haven't asked my mother if she remembers them. For now, I'm just glad they live on the window ledge above the sink in my kitchen, where they've found a home among the chives and parsley. They are happy there.

Shhh....

I alone in the house.
Let me say that again--I am alone in the house.
I have been here all by myself for just over 2 hours. I cannot remember the last time this has happened for more than a few minutes.
I watched basketball, but it seemed like too much noise and too much action. Life has been that way pretty much all day every day for a long time.
So I turned it off, much as I wanted to see who won. I'll check it out on Sports Center later.
I took a bath. I read. I put on the softest clothes I could find. I almost didn't slice because the sound of clicking keys seemed intrusive somehow. The only sounds are occasional creaks from around the house, distant rumbles of car or train engines,  paper rustling as pages turn, and the sounds of my own breathing.
Shhh....

On Friday, We Know

We don't need a calendar to tell us it's Friday at this house. Everyone staggers into the house from work or practice or a meeting, and more than one coat doesn't quite make it onto the hook or hanger or chair back. Bags are carried just far enough to not be counted as left in the doorway.
It's common to find a shadowy lump in a chair or on a sofa in a room that is dark because flipping a light switch seems like too much effort. Often each person finds his or her way to a different room, too worn out for company. The energy level in the house would make a sloth appear hyper.
Even when someone has something planned, and even if it's a much anticipated event, the getting ready takes at least twice as long as usual. It's accompanied by deep sighs and sometimes a soft groan. Going and doing isn't the problem. The problem is momentum.
Dinner is late on Fridays. It takes a while to work up the desire to do something about the hunger pangs. Sometimes someone takes one for the team and agrees to go pick up carry out. Often it's the person who hasn't yet managed to change into sweats or pajamas.
Bedtime becomes a problem only because bed is so far away. There are stairs involved, and teeth brushing, and defying the gravity that keeps us pinned to our spots. There is no need for a calendar to tell us the day of the week. On Friday, we know.

The Slice That Isn't

I have started this slice 3 times.

The first idea had an awesome title and a great premise...but no content (no, I cannot tell what it was! What if the rest of it comes to me on another day this month? I need the potential for an idea, even if I don't have a real one, and the title is awesome).

The second one bored even me. And I have low standards.

The next try had promise, and I got 3 short, snappy paragraphs done before rereading, only to realize that sentences that wander around without going anywhere are not snappy at all.

So this is a slice that isn't. It isn't a story or anecdote or list or poem. It's just a collection of unrealized potential, a series of starts that weren't, and endings that never happened.

Oh boy!

I'm excited, and when I tell you why, I just ask that you don't jump to conclusions.

Husband has done something wonderful. Something that is causing me to especially look forward to going up to bed. A lot. So much that I'm anxious to finish slicing.

(Hey now--just what exactly are you thinking?)

It's just that when he told me what he was going to do, I immediately started figuring out how much longer til bedtime. And I'm a girl who will do almost anything to avoid figuring elapsed time.

(Seriously, I cannot believe that you thinking what I think you are thinking.)

Husband knows how to make woman happy at bedtime.
You see, a while ago, he put my flannel jammies and fleecy socks into the washing machine. Then that handsome hunk of a man put them into the dryer. And the buzzer is about to go off. That means I'm about to be handed a hot pile of comfort just in time to slide in between the cool sheets of our bed. Bliss.

Aren't you ashamed of where your mind has been?