julierichmond

There a million tiny rituals that make up my day. There is dancing around the kitchen table, screaming about stray socks on the stairs, the dishes, the folding of clothes, the feeding of cats and kids, the walking of the dog, the paying of bills, the returning of books.
All of these things must be done by the end of each day so that my family and I can move forward to the next day and the day after that. Sometimes I stop to cherish an individual moment, most often I don’t. We just move forward, snapping photographs of the highlights, or the low lights. Quoting each other on Facebook. But mostly we just move forward with just a pause for sleep in the middle of it all.
This morning, I put my husband on the plane to go see his Mom. She is 92. She is starting to forget things, or she’s moving around through time like it is a swimming pool. Last week, she was getting married. Last month, she was visiting Canada. Margaret is living with my sister in law and her family in North Carolina . She is not getting married or going to Canada. She is sitting in a chair, waiting for people to call or come see her.
This morning, I drove my husband to the airport. He is, though we haven’t spoken of it, going to say goodbye.
Most of the business of life is mundane, or silly, or aggravating, or not even worth mentioning.
And then along comes a morning like this, where everything stops, and I just have to honor this woman, my husband, the life that I have and the life that I look forward to.
Travel safe, Sheldon. Come home, soon, my dear. And please give your mother a kiss from all of us.

Sophie The Dog is asleep and dreaming about bunnies.
Bunnies live right down the street. This afternoon, Sophie the Quick slipped out the front door and raced to backyard where they live. She promptly got herself stuck behind a woodpile.
Colin and I had to wait about twenty minutes, each stationed at either end, for her to give up her bunny quest and come home with us.
We live in a bunny free zone. All we have in the pet department these days are two cats who find her a little too enthusiastic for their taste. And a fish that only gets attention when bedtime comes and fish custody is discussed.
So Sophie sleeps a lot, and visits a world where she eats more peanut butter than Katy, and after dining, plays endlessly in fields of friendly bunnies.
You know, that sounds like a pretty nice dream.

Monday and Tuesday were a blur this week. So much to do before travel, the lists and the laundry, the checking of fluids and tires, (we were driving,) the overwatering of plants and the list of instructions for the girl next door who kindly offered to fish sit. The list explains,  in a rather lengthy paragraph, that if the fish gets too much food it will die. And that the fish should only eat fish food. We’ve lost a lot of pets this year so I went with the you can’t be too careful approach. Along those lines, maybe I should have actually explained that though her job title is “fish sitting” she should not, under any circumstances, sit on the fish. Here’s hoping.

Right before I left, there was the lingering conversations on the sofa with Sophia the Most Magnificent of Puppies which I won’t repeat here. It would embarrass me and bore you, but in a nutshell I told her we’d be home soon.

By the time I actually got in the car, I was exhausted. I was armed with a rather large coffee, serious sunglasses, two kids who swore not to fight until we’d gone at least 150 miles, a smartphone perched in the passenger seat, mapquest opened, our destination entered, our route laid out. There were snacks, bottles of water, kleenex, a car charger, 14 magazines, one large book of knock knock jokes… Oh my just recounting the preparations for our Thanksgiving road trip is making me frazzled.

And I was. During the first twenty minutes on the road I snarled at the kids twice “How is it you are twelve and you still don’t know how to wear a seat belt”, spent twenty minutes flipping thru radio stations, and fifteen minutes listening to Taylor Swift tell me we are never, ever getting back together. I hung up on my husband when he called me I might run into traffic in Conneticut, I cut off a car full of New Hampshire nuns who were trying to steal my lane.

And then, a thought occurred to me. Out of nowhere. I was on my way to Mountain Lakes NJ to spend Thanksgiving with one of my favorite families in the whole world, the Harringtons. I was on VACATION. I could let the nuns cut me off, I could handle Miss Swift’s cruel rejection, the kids could squabble as long as their battles weren’t going to lead to hospitalization or criminal charges… We are going away for the holiday to see a family that knows my family, warts, and all, and really really wants so see us. They are making up pullout beds, and buying extra cereal, and scrubbing down the guest room bathroom just for us!!!

And in that moment of clarity, I rolled down my window, I leaned out and yelled  “Happy Thanksgiving.” 

Nobody heard me, it was about thirty degrees and everybody had their windows closed.

My kids asked me what was in my coffee.

The rest of the trip was long, very long. We sat in traffic, we played punch buggies, and “do we really have to listen to this song again” and “it’s my turn to sit there” for about six hours.

When we got to Amy’s house, they were waiting for us. They took us for pizza, New Jersey pizza. I am the happiest houseguest in the whole world. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. And if you are in the middle of getting bogged down by the small stuff, and the not so small stuff…

Try not to.

PS Sophie, I promise, I will be home soon.

Last night was Halloween, and we were lucky. Milton, Massachusetts wasn’t forced to cancel it like many of the other towns in our area.

Katy went dressed up as a pirate. This was her third time wearing her nautical ensemble and I am proud to say, Wednesday afternoon all pieces of her costume were intact. (I seriously doubted that the eyepatch would make it longer than a day.)

Colin is twelve. Last year was his last year trick or treating. The year before that, he made the same announcement. Last night, before donning his hat, more Indiana Jones than Freddy Krueger, he announced that this was definitely his last stroll around the streets in search of candy and quarters. He went out with a gang of friends before I even made it home from school. (This was the first time he had made the promise via text message. I will save it. Forever.)

I took Tue and Katy out, this is probably the last year I will lurk in the shadows next to a dancing dog, watching them trip up stairs. Every other house, “Don’t forget to say thank you!”

We finished at about 8, I charged the girls about 3 kit kats apiece and I don’t even want to remember how many Reeses. About fifteen minutes later, another knock on the door. Colin was there, surrounded by five or six other boys, all wearing vague costumes that relied heavily on rubber masks and sweat shirts. I held out our plastic pumpkin, offered what was left of the candy to Col and his friends.

Fifteen minutes later, Colin came rushing in. “Mom, that was so great.” “You had a good time?” I asked. I’m studying interpersonal communications at school, getting quite good at conversation. “You were the best mom we saw tonight.” “Thanks, Col-” before I could continue building on my meaningful dialogue with my son he interrupted- “You didn’t embarrass me at all.”

Oh, the glow I got. And it wasn’t from the full moon.

I was in my bathroom, thinking about my nose, it’s too short, and my eyelashes, also too short, when I noticed… in the bowl with our toothbrushes and toothpastes, there was one singular tube where before there had been at least two or three. Katy doesn’t brush with Dora Gel, Colin no longer uses the extra flouride bubblegum goo; they are both brushing with my Crest.

This brought me to thinking about all of things that we, as a family, have started to let go of. Chicken nuggets are a thing of the past, we have chicken, baked chicken, chicken and pasta, oven fried, and chicken tacos, but no more nuggets. In my car, no more car seats, haven’t had them for a long time, but also no juice boxes tucked in the pockets, or highlights magazines on the seats. No ziplock bags of snacks stuffed in the console, no cheerios on the floor.

Mostly, these days we like the same movies and the same ESPN. When we go for walks, they don’t shadow my steps, asking every six minutes if we can stop and look for snakes. When we go out for dinner, they are the ones that keep me from letting the waitress bring one more bowl of popcorn before dinner. “Mom, do you really need it? Really?”

Colin is twelve and Katy is eight. When I want to go out for a while, I don’t look for a sitter. I don’t make those phone calls “Danielle, would you mind if my daughter…”  Colin stays home with her.

We have seamlessly transitioned into a family of four instead of one that defines itself as two adults and two children. Yes, my kids will always be my children, but I no longer have to worry about snacks, or remind them about homework, or buy 3 tubes of toothpaste because Katy will only brush with Dora, Colin likes bubble gum. We all like Crest.

I’m not sure when it changed. Maybe it was around the time I outlawed Barbie movies, or Burger King, or food in the car. It’s made shopping easier and it’s a helluva lot nicer to hang out with them. I just wish I could remember the exact moment that our lives moved into this phase. We have conversations instead of exchanges that used to weighted heavily with whining and/or speeches, (by both sides!)

I don’t miss the car seats, ambiguous poultry, and little kid habit of watching the same movie 62 times in a row. I do miss always having to take Katy to the bathroom after dinner to wipe off her chin, sticky with ketchup while she looked at me with an expression that told me that  she truly believed I was the only one in the world capable of cleaning her face. “Thanks, mommy. I’ll try not to do it again.” And we’d both laugh, knowing that Katy, with her unparalleled love of the stuff, would definitely do it again.

She doesn’t do it anymore. At age eight Katy decided she was giving up the dipping method in regards to burger condiments, so she is no longer stained by dessert. I guess the only thing I do miss about those days was that look . II’d glimpse a variation on her face when she watched me pop corn on the stove- “Your the only one that does this, Mommy. Everyone else just uses their Microwave!” I’d fined that expression in Colin’s eyes when I helped him with a paper, or laced up his skates- “Mom, how do you do that so fast?”

But today I got a new look from Colin and Kate. They were hovering over my shoulder while I was on the computer taking care of some studying. Colin asked if he could see my grades. So I showed him what I’ve gotten so far. Straight A’s. (Two of my professors actually haven’t put any of my homework grades on line, those A’s were just for showing up to class.) “Wow, mom,” Colin said quietly. “Wow, mom!”, Katy said not quite so quietly. “You’re doing so good, we didn’t even help you study!”

I miss the old look I guess, sometimes, when I feel the need for eyes to gaze at me with awe, I was Superwoman, Betty Crocker and Florence Nightingale in one. That was nice.

But during our latest moments tonight I saw on their faces respect and pride. I have to tell you, so far I think I like this phase best.