Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers. Head over there for information and links to more Slicing!

The end of winter vacation, 2 hour delays...What if? 

What If

What if
every morning, we had time to
sled,
cook and pack hot lunches
play scrabble junior
and do yoga?
                          and 2 hour delays didn't mean that
                          I'm still late leaving
                          because my son needs a time out
                          as I walk out 
                          the door?

What if
every time I came home I saw
kids playing outside
and had time to bake banana bread
and dinner?
                           and the kitchen miraculously
                           cleaned itself, floors included
                           and kids hung their snow pants up
                           without being asked?

What if
evenings were always full
of calm homework
and bingo
and time to help with piano practice?
                             and pencils weren't lost,
                             sharpeners always worked
                             bingo pieces didn't fall 
                             and nobody cried at the piano


What if
bedtime was always full of
just the right snuggles
and bedtime stories
and whispers of
"I love you Mama?"
                              and I didn't fall asleep
                              to wake up groggy, an hour later
                              to emails and grading and                
                              planning?

"Would 5 extra hours in your day be enough?"
my husband asks,
like George Bailey offering to "lasso the moon."

I don't know.

Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers. Head over there for information and links to more Slicing!

I notice the drama first, since I am facing the Wegman’s cafe entrance. We are close enough to hear the whole thing, and E and I are unable to pull our attention away.

The man isn’t able to get through the automatic door. He walks with a cane, slowly and with an unsteady gait. He complains, sounding mildly annoyed but not distressed. “The door won’t let me walk through. It keeps closing on me.” I watch as the cafe worker notices him and listens to him. She smiles, as you do when a stranger starts talking to you and you are trying to make heads or tails of what they are saying.

The door is closing on him, again and again. I have a fleeting thought that I should maybe run up and hold it open for him. I am worried though, that it would be almost insulting to jump to the conclusion that he needs my help. I know I have been known to complain out loud in a grocery store. I’ll laugh and say, “I can’t control my cart, or “Wow, I’m in everyone’s way in this aisle today!” I say these things with a smile, hoping to smooth over any annoyance of my fellow shoppers.

Suddenly the man is yelling. “Open the door for me, sir! You idiot!” He directs his anger to the female cafe worker,  who is just starting to figure out that maybe this man does need help. She startles, and jumps over to help him, muttering a sincere “I’m sorry.” He yells again, “Don’t be sorry, idiot! Jesus Christ! What’s your problem?”

She helps him get through the door, with her head hung and her eyes embarrassed. He walks away, still muttering, and she cleans the nearby counter. I watch her out of the corner of my eyes, as my 4 year old asks me why the man was so mean.

“He was having trouble getting through the door.” I explain. “How else could he have asked for help?” I ask my son.

“He could have asked nicely… He could have said please.” E answers.

“He must have been having a bad day, or been embarrassed that he couldn’t get through that door. But I wish he hadn’t treated that lady so sharply.” I say, trying to make his unkindness into a teachable moment.

I watch as the worker picks up some trays and heads to the back of the cafe. She still has that shamed face of someone who just got yelled at. I notice her name tag as I try to catch her attention. “I’m sorry that happened to you.” I say. I’m not sure if she hears me. I’m not sure if her day is ruined, or if she will be able to shake it off. I know it was painful to watch the opposite of pay it forward play out in front of us.

As E and I leave the cafe to start our grocery shopping, we pass the man, and I cross my fingers that my son won’t blurt out anything remotely close to “There’s that mean man!” I feel sympathy for this man too. How hard to have the door close on you while you are trying to keep your head held high and walk into the grocery store. I hope he finds some peace in his day without yelling at anyone else.

Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers. Head over there for information and links to more Slicing!

Do you know that quote about having children? That it is “…forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.” (Elizabeth Stone said this, the internet is telling me). Ever since becoming a mother, I have felt that quote to be true. Lately I have been struck by how much this love is heartbreakingly strong. It must be universal, this feeling… right?

Does it bring you to tears, to watch your 4 year old “read” a superhero book to himself in bed? When he asks you if Superman is okay with the green kryptonite or red, do you interrupt him just to kiss his cheeks some more? When he asks you if Santa gives the kind of legos that come with directions, do you wrinkle your face up because his four year old voice melts your heart? When he climbs back into your bed in the middle of the night, without waking you, are you so cozy to find him there in the morning? Do you give him kisses and hugs early in the morning, not even worrying if it wakes him up?

Do you stop to stare at your 7 year old, who squeezed himself between you and your daughter on the couch? Do you want to freeze time as you put your arm around him and listen to him talk about the toys in the catalog he is looking through? When he tests your patience while testing the limits, do you want to just stop the presses and tickle him? Do you make him promise that he will always hug you and snuggle you for the rest of forever, even though you know that one day he will be grown up, and too cool, and far too busy? When he climbs into your bed early in the morning, do you send a thank you to the universe for such a miracle to have him?

When your very own middle schooler says “Wait, didn’t you say this would be the time I’d be all mean, and say ‘I hate you?'” do you want to say, “Well, I guess we skipped that, phew!” (Even though you know that day is coming….)  Do you hit pause and attack her with the tightest hugs? Does she still look like your baby to you? Are you worried about her getting all independent? Do you know that she has to learn to be a responsible young adult, but still want to hold her hand while she does it? Does she tell you she’ll miss you on her field trip? Do you tell her that she’ll be fine, and have fun, and that she can handle walking around with a group of peers with no group chaperone? Do you mean, “Of course you’ll miss me! I should be with you! You need a chaperone! There are all kinds of scary things that can happen!” Do you reel in your anxiety to help her grow up? When she wakes up Saturday morning and makes her way down the hall to see if you are up, do you hope there are millions of years left where she will be beside you?

Do you let your kids fall asleep in your bed because it’s nice to be all together at the end of the busy day? Do you sneak in to check them before falling asleep? Do you send a prayer of love and hope it wraps them in safety?

Does your heart ache?