A Normal Day that I Wrote About for Some Reason

          I was minding my own business, sleeping like a champ when Caleb woke me up claiming he needed to cuddle.  I glanced at my phone and saw it was 2:00am and banished him back to his own bed.  He woke me up next talking in his sleep.  He was saying, “Alright sister.  Game over.  My turn.”  Right as I drifted off again he said, “It’s SO PRETTY, SO BEAUTIFUL.”  I have no idea what he was seeing in his dream but was very interested.

“What’s beautiful Brother?” I asked him.  He didn’t respond.  I poked him a little and he didn’t move.

“What did you see?” I asked again.  He was sound asleep.  Blasted child.  At that point I was wide awake and curious as to what dream caused such a reaction of fascination from Caleb.  I hoped I would have a fascinating dream too.  So far all I’d dreamt that night was that I was looking out at the pasture and saw multiple tornadoes tearing towards the house.  Tornadoes coming towards your house is never a good time and it sure isn’t beautiful.  It had been a while since I’d had my “flying through outer space naked” dream so I hoped for that one as I tried to go back to sleep.  Sometimes in that dream I get stuck in the orbit of some horrifying gas planet and have to hold my breath so the toxic fumes don’t kill me as I’m being dragged into its atmosphere and I wake up gasping for real life breath.  That’s always interesting though because then I wonder if I had just made it to the center of that gas planet in my dream what I would have found.  Probably a secret or something.  Anyway, I woke up at 5:30 because Caleb was shoving his freezing feet in between my calves and I let him stay there because I had to be up in thirty minutes anyway and didn’t want him lurking around while I was trying to get Makayla ready for school.  I gritted my teeth until I got used to his feet and vowed to make him start wearing socks at night no matter how big of a fit he throws about hit.  He says socks make his toes sweat and it makes his “in between toes” squishy.  I have told him he doesn’t know squishy until he steps in a fresh cow patty bare footed.  At six I went to get Makayla ready for school and as soon as her bedroom light was on her brother shot out of bed like a rocket asking what we were going to do today.  An hour later after Makayla was off to school, I asked Caleb, “What will you have for breakfast today, Son?”

He tapped his chin with his forefinger, a habit he learned from his sister and looked up at the ceiling in thought.  I looked up too.  I saw the ceiling.

“I will have a corn dog,” he said.

“You will not have a corn dog.  Choose something else more appropriate for breakfast.”

“A cheeseburger.”

“You know what we eat for breakfast,” I told him, cranky from lack of caffeine and sleep, “Now you choose or I will choose for you.  Would you like me to make you some eggs?  Or waffles?  Maybe a fried egg on a waffle?”

“I would like a breakfast sandwich please,” he said.

Oh good.  He had discovered my secret stash of super quick breakfasts that I make in the microwave for when I’m in a hurry.  They’re convenient because I can zap them for one minute and carry them around with me when I’m playing outside.  I made him his sandwiches.  He demanded two.  He ate one.  I wasn’t hungry at all; in fact I was pretty sure I was going to throw up but ate his other one.  Then I threw up.  After that was over, I lied on the hardwood floor so I could press my cheeks against the cold surface to cool off and Sassy, my grandma’s lapdog trotted over to me to cuddle.  Sassy is old now so I don’t push her away anymore or ever deny her love so I let her cuddle though I warned her to keep her dog hair out of my face since I was sure feeling dog hairs around my mouth would make me hurl.  Caleb brought me a cold rag and rubbed my back and after waking up all the way, my stomach relaxed and I felt a surge of energy.  I jumped up and said “Woo hoo!” because I was relieved that this morning’s tummy nausea wasn’t going to be a blasted all day event like it’s been more than a few times.  Caleb and I lurked all over the farm and into the brush and the trees and down by the creek until it was time for a Dr. appointment.  I had to make myself more presentable since I had dirt and sweat all over my face and clothes so I went to disguise myself into a civilized human in the bathroom.  When I came out, Caleb had destroyed the house by throwing folded blankets everywhere and tossing pillows about.  He was making a fort for Sassy he said.  That sounded reasonable to me so I told him to put the things back and go to the car.

After the doctor, we went to the library.  “We’re at the City Library!”  Caleb cheered.  I love how he calls it the City Library. 

“I will look at the movies while you look at the books,” he said, “I want more books.”

“I just got you new books,” I told him, “I am turning in my old ones and getting new ones.  You will stay with me and then when I am finished choosing books, we can look at the movies.”

He agreed that my plan was fair.  I know this because he said, “I agree.  That sounds fair.”

We entered the library and Caleb let the librarians know he was there by yelling, “Hello there girls!  How are you?”

I reminded him we must speak quietly at the library and he is not to refer to grown women as “girls” but to say “Hello ma’am.”  I had him redo his introduction in an “indoor” voice so he said softly to the librarians “hello ma’ams.  How are you ma’ams?”  He then proceeded to show them his muscles.  His real muscles couldn’t be seen because he was wearing his Octimus Prime costume and that sucker has giant padded muscles sewn into it.  He’s not aware yet that holding your mommy’s hand isn’t cool in front of pretty girls so he grabbed my hand, pointed towards the “grown up books” as he calls them and said, “Come on Mom.  Let’s go look at your books over there.”

I love books.  I love books nearly as much as I love riding horses and much more than I like most people.  I especially love to read books on world cultures and history and strolled all around the non-fiction section reading titles and skimming through books I’ve never read.  I wanted to take them all.  I finally realized I needed to go ahead and make a choice because my little guy had been very patient and when you’re four, it isn’t exactly easy to have to wait on a grown up who is looking at grown up things when your entire heart is set on finding the perfect Spiderman movie.  I chose my books and led Caleb over to find a movie.  The Moore’s squirt was pounding my bladder and I had to pee and I was getting nauseous but Caleb had been very patient for me so it was only right that I be patient for him.  I sat down in a chair while he picked a movie and asked him to help me pick something for Sister too.  We chose Charlotte’s Web for Makayla and he chose some superhero kid movie.  While I was checking out, Caleb started chatting up the librarian who wasn’t helping us.  I was about to remind him to ask if she was busy and if she had time to chat before just starting a conversation, but as I opened my mouth to tell him, that horrifying feeling came all over me and in front of the whole blasted place, I puked in the trash.  As a person who does not typically have the embarrassment gene, humiliation isn’t something I struggle with but when I’m inconveniencing the public with my stinky barf, I don’t have that great of a self image.  Then I realized I had puked in the trash can where people put paper to be recycled.  Not only was I being a public nuisance, I was messing with Texas and desecrating nature.  All at the same time.  Caleb rushed over and grabbed my hand and patted it saying, “It’s OK mommy.  It’s good you made it to the trashcan.  You need to drink some water.”  He looked madly around for some water to bring me and then he instructed a woman behind him to “get my mommy some water please ma’am.”

“I’m fine,” I said to the startled woman and took the entire trashcan full of puke out to the dumpster.  The dumpster itself made me dry heave and going back into the library seemed like the most humiliating thing ever but I wanted my books and Caleb wanted his movie.  Whatever.  I knew all of those people in there anyway and had seen most of them do way dumber stuff than puke in a recycle trash can.  After that fiasco was over, I drove home and put Caleb down for a nap.  Before I knew it, Makayla’s bus was dropping her off at the end of the long dirt road and terrified some highway kidnapper would drive by just as she got off, I threw my boots on and ran down the road until I caught up with her.  I felt like I had been running pretty fast but she told me it took me forever to get to her.  I told her she could have maybe run towards me to quicken the pace.  She said she thought I wanted to run since “you keep saying you’re getting too big too quick Mommy.  So running will make you little again I bet.”

Terrified I was setting her up for a future eating disorder with my comments I quickly reminded her that it is very important to not get too big because it is not good for our hearts and health but not being big enough is just as bad and all that yadda yadda to ensure she grows up with a realistic expectation for weight and self image.  I’m always terrified I’m going to mess up my kids with some dumb young person statement and try to fix the dumb things I do and say with wise sentiments.

Being outside and feeling the wind on my face made me feel better but as soon as I got back inside my stomach started hurting again.  After dinner as I did the dishes I was certain I would die.  My stomach cramped and Caleb had asked every ten seconds when he would watch his new movie.  I had told him repeatedly that he would watch the movie tomorrow and every few minutes and sometimes seconds he asked again.  While doing the dishes I finally snapped at him, “I will NEVER get you another movie again if you don’t stop that right now.”

The act of even talking made me afraid I was going to hurl and I leaned over and groaned to keep from dry heaving. 

“Don’t worry Bubba,” Makayla said, “She’ll forget.  Just like she forgot that she was never taking me to town ever again.”  She put little air quotes around the part where she said “never taking me to town ever again.”  My grandmother reminded me to never give a consequence I can’t go through with and told me a story of how she had handled a situation when her kids were little and reminded me that I’m the one who is in charge of them taking me seriously.  Since I stopped knowing more than my grandparents when I was about eighteen or so, I listened thoughtfully and tried to think of how I could apply what she said to what I do.  When the dishes were finally done, I finished up some chores in the back of the house and then ran outside, grateful to be in the evening sunshine and around the trees and dirt and grass.  We let the dogs out and the kids and dogs and I took off running past the tool sheds and barns and wheat fields, all the way to the path that leads you to the creek.  As I ran I wanted to close my eyes in sheer joy at the wind blowing in my face and through my hair but closing your eyes when you’re running is never a good idea so when we got to the creek path I just laid down in the grass and rolled around.  When I had rolled all my happiness out, I laid back and smiled up at the sky and clouds and sunset and stretched my arms as high as they would go so I could feel the wind between my fingers and the kids plopped down beside me: Caleb laying on the ground right next to me, Makayla sitting lady like, afraid to mess up her hair.  I showed them how the wind blows the clouds and talked about the different types of clouds there are.  I told them how lots of places aren’t like the farm and how I’d rather never be anywhere else unless of course I’m at the beach in Corpus.

“When I moved to Arizona there were buildings all around.  A person couldn’t even hardly see the sky at all.  And beyond those awful buildings there were great big mountains.  You couldn’t feel the wind and you couldn’t see the sun come up or go down.  And at night you couldn’t see the milky way and you could only see a few stars.”

They both looked at me with horror.

“Did you die?” Caleb whispered.

“No.  I survived.  But even when you are somewhere that isn’t where you really want to be it’s best to find the good things about the strange place.  It never snowed in Mesa.  And the mountains really were pretty.  But those things only help you get by.  You have to be where you love to really be alive I think.  And if you can’t be, then find the best things about that place and be happy that you have people with you who love you.”

I figured that was important.  They seemed bored.  I wondered if they ever really understood the importance behind what I try to instill in them.  I wondered what would happen if they became hoodlums or even worse, lobbyists. 

“I will never go anywhere I can’t see the stars and the sunset,” Makayla told me.

We got up and walked back to the house because it was too dark to go to the creek and I don’t like getting mauled by night creatures, especially porcupines.  Snacks and baths and teeth were all taken care of and the kids put to bed.  Grandpa came into the computer room and told me, “We’ve got a full moon out there and me and mamma’s gonna go spoonin.”  Gross.  I made a face at him and told him to enjoy himself and went to the window to look at the moon.  I smiled at it.  Later as I read, I heard the wind blowing through the trees and the coyotes howling and snuggled happy and cozy into my bed, perfectly happy with everything in the world. 

The Edible Cake and Hallway Skating

I was minding my own business, getting a lecture from my grandpa about volume control while lurking through the house when I got a fabulous idea.  I decided to create an edible cake for him.  I announced this to change the subject but he still wanted to discuss my “storming around” the house.  In my defense I wasn’t storming at all.  I was galloping to gain momentum to slide across the wood floor like a professional hockey player.  With enough momentum I can get all the way down the hallway if the rug or wall doesn’t get in my way.  One time while I was sliding down the hall Makayla barged through the front door and I was sliding at such a high speed that as she flung the door open, I slid right into it and fell backwards.  Last night I went to slide down the hallway but I forgot I wasn’t wearing socks and just kind of skidded until I fell down into a weird belly flop in the middle of the floor.  Makayla looked out from her room and looked at me and said, “Are you trying to do the worm again?”  I was pretty embarrassed about that and told her I was “stretching.”  She believed me.  Why I just so happened to be stretching in the hallway, on the floor, sprawled on my belly must not have been suspicious to her. 

Anyway, I told my grandfather perhaps my volume was not my problem but his since he’s got oddly large ears and he told me he was hearing impaired and I conceded that ear size has nothing to do with ability to hear, I suppose unless you were born without ears, and agreed to be quieter when sliding down the hallway.  After dinner I created my cake.  At first I was going to make it from scratch but was pretty much forbidden to do so since my grandma was thoughtful enough to buy me those easy little box cakes.  Apparently she doesn’t want me blowing up, imploding, igniting, or creating un-oven friendly things in her oven.  My grandfather voiced amazement that I was even allowed in the kitchen and I chose to be the bigger person and ignore his comment.  Since the lame box cake was ridiculously simple to make it turned out to be edible.  After I iced it I hollered to Grandpa three times, “Would you like a piece of this cake?”  He didn’t answer.  I sent each child to ask and he didn’t answer.  Grandma asked and he didn’t answer.  Grandma finally said, “He’ll have his later.”  Fair enough.  Makayla announced, while eating her cake, “Mommy finally made a normal cake!”  My grandmother thought this was funny.  After my children were done eating their cake my grandpa went into the kitchen, peered down at the cake and said, “What’s this?”

“That’s an edible cake that I created,” I said, “Y’all all laughed at me.  And now look.”

“No one offered me a piece,” he said, basically pouting.

I rolled my eyes at him, “We all four asked you if you wanted a piece.”

“I figured you wanted it with ice cream anyway,” Grandma said.

“Like we haven’t learned his odd habits in the entirety of our acquaintance with him,” I said to grandma, then to him, “We’ve known you for a year or two.  You eat your cake with ice cream.”

“Didn’t no one offer me a piece,” he said, just to be annoying, “I’m hearing impaired.”

“You hear just fine when I’m walking quiet like an Indian down the hallway,” I said, “but I offer you a piece of your favorite dessert three times, have two children and your wife offer you some cake, and you claim to have never heard these offerings.  How odd.”

He mocked my “Indian walking” and said my galloping down the hall made grandma bounce in her chair.  He demonstrated what said bouncing looked like and appeared to be having a demon exorcised.  I don’t gallop that damn hard.  I ignored his performance and thought about the horrible cake episode in “The Help,” and decided against making such a comment.  That would have just been in bad taste.

Sticker Patches and Humans are a Bad Combination

Grandma and Grandpa announced that they were going to town to “Wally World” and I decided to take that opportunity to brush their dog, Jake, since he’s starting to resemble a giant ball of fluff with two little eyes. 

“Want to see the way I do it?” Grandpa asked.

Since I know how to brush a dog I really didn’t care to see a demonstration but sometimes Grandpa has new tricks so I said, “Sure.”
We went to the back porch and he proceeded to pick at Jake’s fur so that the part that was shedding just came right out.  Then he stuck the hair he had removed on my shirt.  I thanked him and got to work with the actual comb.  Within ten minutes I was bored with the task and realized it would take at least an hour.  Since the sun was burning on my face and the breeze was perfect, I decided I’d rather spend an hour lurking through the wilderness and figured I could brush Jake later.  There’s a creek close to my grandpa’s farm, with hills and caves and all sorts of cool stuff and I spent a great deal of my childhood tromping all over acres and acres of brush land.  I also spent a great deal of my teenage years sneaking off to the same places to smoke cigarettes and drink beer and skinny dip with my friends.  But today, I decided I would take my son to some of the calmer parts of the creek and show him some of my favorite spots.  Since the creek is a pretty good way from the farm, I took Jake with me and decided Taylor Swift would enjoy exploring. 

          We left the farm and started down the dirt road that leads to the creek.  Jake always stays off to the side of us or directly in front of us and most of the time if I stop he won’t go another step until I start moving again.  Caleb didn’t like that he wasn’t right with us and I explained that that was Jake’s way of protecting us and Jake was just keeping an eye on what was around us.  Taylor Swift stopped literally every five minutes with stickers in her paws.  I hadn’t considered that her feet weren’t tough like Jakes yet.  I ended up just carrying her the majority of the time.  We left the dirt road down a path I knew wouldn’t have too many thorny trees, yucca plants, cacti, and patches of stickers.  Caleb and I climbed a big hill that’s right above the creek and as we looked at rolling hills and the creek and endless land, Caleb said, “Mommy, this is where God lives.”

“How do you know?” I asked.

“I just do,” he said.

We made our way down the hill to the creek.  I showed him lily pads and found him a bird nest.  I showed him plants that rattle and a tree with branches you can swing on.  We played for about an hour by the creek and I told Caleb to stay put while I climbed to the top of a mound of rocks to see if I could find Jake.  I climbed to the top and whistled for him.  A few minutes later he came out from another part of the trees and I told him to stay close.  I was climbing down from the rocks back into the ravine and noticed my son and Taylor were trying to make their way over to me.

“Wait!” I hollered as I made my way down the rocky hill.  There were sticker patches and thorns and I didn’t want Caleb roaming without me or Jake right there since he would probably try to hug a snake or rabid armadillo or something.  I scrambled down and misjudged how steep the hill was and one minute I was on my feet and the next I was sliding down on my back.  Not only did my decent put thousands of thorns in my shirt, when I stopped sliding down, I rolled over onto my stomach right into a sticker patch.  I stood up awkwardly and heard Caleb yelling.  I figured he was yelling because my graceful decent from the hill scared him but I soon found he and Taylor were both stuck in their own sticker patch.  He was standing there with stickers stuck to his superhero costume and Taylor was whining.  With my arms spread I waddled over to him and realized I wouldn’t be able to rescue them with stickers all in my shirt.  The slightest movement made the stickers poke me and tear my skin and after trying to brush them off only to get them caught deeper, I decided the only thing to do was take my shirt off.  I took it off carefully and threw it on the ground and rescued my son and pup.  Taylor Swifts paws were bleeding and Caleb had literally hundreds of stickers all over his pant legs.  I sat down in the dirt, not the sticker patch, in jeans and a bra, and got to work getting the stickers off of him.  Then I got to work on my own shirt but there were so many little thorns from when I rolled over tumbleweeds and apparently even a cactus, that it was hopeless without tweezers.  So I picked up my dog, grabbed my son’s hand, and started walking home.  In my bra.  I was hoping with my whole heart that my grandparents would not be home yet and thirty minutes later, when I arrived at the farm, saw that they were home.  I covered my front, rushed in the front door, and said, “Don’t ask,” when they both looked up at me.  Grandma went back to her puzzle book without a word and Grandpa went back to his computer without a word.  They’re used to me.  I was relieved some cowboy or oil people didn’t come across the crazy lady without a shirt on, lurking through random brush land holding a puppy and a little boy in a superhero costume.  I think some would find a site like that odd.