Sometimes, there IS no place like home...
This week has been oppressive. On my spirit, my mind, probably on my health. So, I was celebrating the fact that it was the Friday of a long weekend. I took Owen and Harry to the video store and I picked up a copy of the Wizard of Oz. I have strange intentions with it, involving Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon. When one is alone with three small children, you can reach new heights of oddness just to prove that you have not reached new levels of banality.
Earlier that day, I was watching television in Owen's room (the kids had colonized the livingroom), fighting the slow languid blinks of my thick and weighty eye lids. Owen called me down a couple of times to "come see!"Come see!" I could only imagine...a castle made in the middle of the kitchen floor, constructed out of wheat germ, flour and corn meal? How about a reproduction of a Jackson Pollock done with ketchup, mustard and soy sauce? The possibilites were all terrifying. Sleep beaconed so sweetly. I popped awake and came downstairs. In the livingroom sat a laundry basket. In the laundry basket, was...laundry silly. Clean. And folded rather awkwardly. This is why Owen was calling me. He gathered the clean clothes from the dryer, brought them upstairs and folded them. I looked in the basket in rapt amazement. I've never once asked the kids to do these sort of chores - so it was not the result of endless hours of fruitless nagging and cajoling. This was far more precious than a plaster hand cast. I was the quintessential mother in the Sylvain commercials. Cue poignant music and that look of utter pride. My kid folded my laundry.
Now how to I encourage him to start scrubbing toilets?
As I type, Owen and Harry are glued to Wizard of Oz. It was my absolute favorite movie as a 7 year old. Maybe I'll get to slip on some Pink Floyd later. Owen asked that I turn it off so he could listen to the movie. How could I resist?
Given the complete and total insanity that surrounds me at work (of which I am afraid that very little is exaggeration. My students, thankfully have been a consistent source of sanity. The responsible grown-ups that I work with however, have completely lost touch with reality. The result? Heather will be unemployed at the end of the school year...oh yeah. )
So its nice to be here, and actually regard my little messy house and my source of sanity. Thats a contradiction I can live with. There IS no place like home...
16 hours ago