It has been a shaky, blissful few days. What is it about getting over the hump of a holiday only to find you are breathing again? Meltdowns, misunderstandings, missing funds, mayhem and maybe a little ham and turkey in there for good measure. I had this holiday season all laid out in my head: make a little fancy french toast one morning, pancakes with chocolate chips another, an omelet here and there, and on to lunch and dinner. Cookies, and cakes, and cremes oh my!
"I'm so bored," said Sarah. "I am, too," said Leila, and I just started crying. Maybe it was a collision of hormones amongst women, but this one crumbled into a heap on more than one day. I took it all personal and none of it was. They've just outgrown the circle of the living room. I'd read the Emerson Parent guide that said expect your freshmen to come home different.
I forgot.
Today, two days before New Year's Eve, the demands are gone. The kitchen has sat silent for days. I left town and babysat my niece yesterday. I returned on the NJ Transit train tired. Came in to both women cleaning. Washing walls and reaching for dust bunnies from behind the television.
Wounded again.
How do we survive our children and parents? I know the three of us are wondering that.
Instead of thanking them for cleaning, I took it personal again. Leila ordered pizza and she and her sis went out for a walk.
Today Sarah's friend came in from Boston. Leila and I went shopping for bargains. I got sheets for Sarah's new double bed that is coming tomorrow. Leila picked out a new futon mattress and cover for our living room. Things change.
For the better.
Always for the better.
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