I had plans for yesterday. They
involved the 20 pound case of peaches which is, at this moment, still
sitting on the kitchen floor. They were beautiful plans, involving
jam, and maybe some more fruit leather. Maybe canned sliced peaches.
And then, life happened.
Today is my eldest daughter's 9th
birthday, and there is no one here but the four of us and my mother.
And there will be no one else for a couple of weeks. Why? We have
grade-school-plague. Yup, you got it. Lice. Lice that I discovered at
about 10 o'clock yesterday morning. I know where we got them from,
but I'm naming no names, because it happens to almost everyone at
some point.
If my house didn't look like a bomb had
gone off before, it certainly does now. My couch is covered in clean
sheets, my laundry room is knee deep in bedding, clothes, and stuffed
animals, and the steam washer and steam drier have been running
non-stop. Between my mother and I, we have vacuumed at least five
times. After that, every hard surface in the house got a coating of
diatomaceous earth. I know this is overkill. I know. But my whole
body just itches, even though I was given a clean head of health, as
it were. None the less, I sat covered in rubbing alcohol and topped
with a disposable shower cap just like the rest of the family. Why
take chances? And then there were the phone calls to nearly everyone
we know. “Hi, I'm just calling to tell you we may have given you
parasites.” Yeah. That was fun. Luckily, the infection seems to be
limited to us.
And the more I vacuumed, shoveled
laundry into the wash, and installed dust, the crankier I got. I had
plans darn it, and my peaches were in heaven only knows what
condition. I hadn't even managed to open the box and check them after
Shawn got them home from the farmer's market. The crankier I got, the
more miserable I got, all the while thinking to myself, “Wow,
that's a lot of fuss over some peaches.” Only, you know, it wasn't
about the peaches at all. My baby is turning 9. WAY too fast. And I
know it's cliché, but I just can't cope. My time with her is half
way over today. And after watching my mother try to cope with my
brother moving half way across the country to attend a PhD program
this week, I have a rather vivid idea of what is coming my way. It's
a good thing for your children to go off and fly into the world. I
know this. I have every reason to be proud of my daughter's
independence. Just like I have every reason to be proud of my little
brother. But it just stinks. There's nothing about it that doesn't
stink for me. This is why people get dogs. And yes, I'm still feeling
cranky about it. And raw.
So, last night, mom and I got tipsy and
played cribbage. My ideas about a good time may seem a little
pedestrian, I know, but it had been a long darned day. Besides, math,
brain damage, and alcohol are a pretty entertaining combination,
never mind shuffling the cards. Being able to laugh at yourself can
be a balm to the soul.
I find myself so pulled in so many
different directions. I can't wait until my children are grown and
gone, my house quiet. I'm also dreading it more than death. The same
struggle is taking place on a smaller time scale as well. I can't
wait until they go back to school, and I can get a few hours of peace
and quiet. And I really really want them to stop growing up so fast.
I want the days to slow down some. Here it is, stone fruit season
already, and those peaches sit in my kitchen like an armed bomb,
reminding me how fast the summer has gone by. In just over 3 weeks
Jason will get on a bus, and I won't see him for almost 8 hours. It's
a new chapter in our life. I'm just not ready for that. And I can't
wait.
But no matter how I feel about it, life
marches on. This morning we had a much quieter celebration than
usual. Tonight we'll have Susan's favorite dessert, peanut butter
cookies, and in the meantime my kids are spending a quiet day playing
with legos. In a few moments I will get up and start in on my
peaches. And I will try to process this tangle inside me, to restore
my emotional balance so that I can once more do the most important
job on earth. To wit, teaching another human being to fly into their
own life, while living my own.
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