Like Sands Through the Hourglass, So Are the Days of Our Lives
Wednesday, June 17, 2009 at 1:04AM Peter Reckell was at our pool today. I wish I had had my camera, because I totally would have taken a picture of him to show you. In honor of this famous soap star my day from its very beginning, to the pool, to back home was filled with drama, emotion, sweet memories, trouble, heartache, mysterious disappearances, sudden returns, reunions, love, lamenting, laughter, tears, fleeting moments, hours flying by, chance meetings, intrigue, sweat, and heat. It all started before breakfast.
I took a few extra minutes to get out of bed this morning (and really, it was just a few...but you know what can happen in just a few minutes). I went straight to the schoolroom. Christian was being a very sweet big brother and tried to get Eliana something to eat for breakfast; I was trying to iron something for Mike to wear because as we all know, I like to plan ahead. Instead of ironing something the night before, I went the once-the-kids-are-up-and-hungry route. I heard a soft crash (if you can imagine that) and,"Mo-o-o-o-mmy-y-y!" I knew that something had spilled, and decided it was not a big deal, I would clean it up in a bit. While I was ironing I felt like my feet were sticking to the floor; I figured since I was going to be cleaning one floor, why not two. I ran and got my quick mopper and did the schoolroom floor, then went over it with a wet towel so that the chemicals didn't remain (in such high amounts) to poison my children who roll on, scoot over, and put their faces and mouths on the floor.
Please note that this cleaning counted as aerobic activity for me, as well as some form of weight training. I could describe my method for cleaning the floor but I will spare you...just trust me on this one. My arms are still aching.
I then swept up the mess Frick and Frack had made and we got through breakfast, sent Mike off on his merry way (he had his own full day ahead of him), and got to the business of our day. But not before a snack of bagels thirty minutes after breakfast. Now, I had some errands to run this morning, although by the time I actually got going in the car we were headed not only towards the Post Office, but towards lunchtime. My intention was to run my errands and then head home so that Eliana would fall asleep in the car, I could carry her inside and put her in her bed, she could sleep an hour and a half, we could then go to the pool on the early side, stay long enough to wear everyone out, but get home in time for baths, dinner, and relatively early bedtime. Given the fact that a couple of nights ago Michaela came downstairs at 11:00 P.M. to tell me she was hot, then cold, then hot, then cold, I figured I had a little leeway with the early bedtime.
But wait, I'm getting ahead of myself. See, I had a plan. We all know what happens when I plan. The plans end up being as useful as a pile of fingernail clippings. This is partly because things happen that change my course. And partly because I hate plans. The first thing I noticed as I drove out of our driveway was the fuel light was on. Of course I needed gas. I always need another errand to run. I zipped over to the gas station to which I normally go, and decided I would start there (good thinking, since that's where I was starting) and head back the other way accomplishing all of my tasks in a straight line that you could see if you were watching me from a satellite view of the earth. I made it to the Post Office next and all went well; packet mailed according to plan. I left the Post Office and headed to Gap to return some items that didn't fit Michaela. I also wanted to look at their bathing suits. (Like, for me, which is so, so fun.) This particular Gap has horrible parking and after I drove through one time it was obvious that I was going to have to lug everyone a mile and a half from a parking space over to the store. I switched gears (in my head, not in the car, it's automatic-in the car, not in my head) and decided to go to the mall (abandon straight-line satellite image). I decided to go to the mall where I have to park outside of Macy's, walk through that parking lot, through the whole Macy's store, and then several stores down in order to get to Gap. It's a different kind of a mile and a half, though. Who's with me?
Well, Eenie, Meenie, and Miney were with me, that's who. I asked them to be good and cooperative so that I could get my stuff done, and then we could go to the pool. When I entered the store a lady working in the front told me to let her know if I needed help, and I told her I thought everything in GapKids right now is so adorable that I wished I could wear it. I picked up a skirt and said,"This might fit me." She probably thought,"That's pretty close to letting me know you need help...but it's not the kind I can give you." I put the skirt on my stroller and headed over to the regular Gap counter because the one in the Kids store was down. I returned the stuff and noticed there was a flyer that said in two days there will be a 25% off special deal for Gapcard holders. Of which I am one. I thought,"Do I come back in two days? Or do I just get the 10% Tuesday deal for Gapcard holders because it's Tuesday and I'm already here?" Do you know how much I hate making decisions? Ask Mike, he'll tell you. I hate it. I don't know why it's so hard. I don't know why I make it so hard. I went through the store and checked out a few things; the whole store is on sale. I plopped a couple of cute t-shirts on the stroller, and a nightgown (no bathing suits called out to me). I went back to the Kids section and tried to find the shorts I had returned for Michaela in the right size, but there were none. I went to the counter and asked the lady there (not helpful lady, someone else) if they ever held items for more than one day...she said,"No, only one day. It's always only one day, and there are never, ever any exceptions. It's only one 24 hour period, and only one day." She said all that with her eyes, which smiled at me, but didn't budge on the one-day holding period. I decided that I would just come back and get the stuff for 25% off Thursday (if by then I even feel like stepping foot out of the house because wait until you hear what happened after this). I went to put everything back and another nice saleswoman came and took my things and said she would do it. She had probably been watching me while I tried to herd my...herd, saw them spritzing themselves with GapBody scents, hiding in the clothes, and walking a tightrope on the line-forming bands, and she felt sorry for me. Or she just wanted me to get on out of the store as quickly as I could. I promise they weren't being all that wild. I only got another six gray hairs while I was in there. I know this because I pulled them out a little while later, and one of them was zebra striped. Interesting, no?
After all that time in the store, I left empty-handed. But with the kids! Aren't you glad you're reading this? I am.
So I was walking back towards Macy's, the kids were hungry, and they were wanting to go to the Chick-Fil-A upstairs. I didn't want to spend the money, but...Chick-Fil-A, man. It was just upstairs. And Eliana was in the stroller chanting,"Ick-a-chay, Ick-a-chay." One store down from Gap there stood a woman holding a bowl of food that looked like it was from the Asian fast food place in the mall; she was calm enough and took a couple of bites of her food. That seemed fine and good, but in between her and the glass storefront closest to her was the biggest spread of something-I-know-not-what but it looked like vomit, or it could have been another bowl of what she was eating that had dropped and flown all over the place, like eight feet circular all over the place. I got all panicky and hoped some horrible sickness wasn't spreading all through the mall and then Dallas, and then Texas, and then the whole country at that very minute and I told the kids I couldn't stay, that we had to leave. Oh, how that upset them. They had their little hearts set on eating some tiny fried chicken nibbles, and those waffle fries that are so good. Again, I had to make a decision. I thought my head would explode, adding to the mess that I had just passed. I decided to stay; there were stipulations; no one followed them; my head is still intact. At this point I could see that a change in plans was in order. I got the food to go (no way were we sitting down in the food court so that whatever virus was spreading so quickly throughout the mall would attack us even more swiftly, because viruses travel faster throughout a crowded eating area, you know) and figured we could eat in the car, and then on the drive home Eliana would fall asleep.
It wasn't as early as I had originally hoped but we could still make it to the pool after her nap for a decent afternoon's worth of swim time. Do you know how long it takes for Eliana to eat? Especially something that she has to chew. And chew. And chew. And chew. A long time. And all the while Christian shouted at me from the back of the van,"Mom! Can we just get moving? Can you just get driving?" I kept telling him Eliana had to finish her food, so that she could fall asleep and then I could put her down at home. Everyone finally finished and I put the car in drive and headed out.
Hear this: ELIANA NEVER WENT TO SLEEP. ELIANA REFUSED TO GO TO SLEEP. ELIANA CALLED OUT OVER AND OVER AGAIN,"POOL? POOL? BATHING SUIT. POOL!" AND SHE NEVER WENT TO SLEEP.
This was not part of the plan. I headed home because Christian informed me he had to go to the bathroom (hence the repeated,"Can you just get driving?"), so we took care of that, and I drove around some more, and then gave up. I thought I had tortured my two older children quite enough for the day, and I thought maybe we could just get ready, go to the pool, Eliana would sleep on the way there, and maybe some in her stroller. We got out of the house around 3:45.
Hear this: ELIANA NEVER WENT TO SLEEP. ELIANA REFUSED TO GO TO SLEEP. ELIANA CALLED OUT OVER AND OVER AGAIN,"POOL? POOL? YAY! POOL!" AND SHE NEVER WENT TO SLEEP.
Once we were at the pool the kids headed over to the big one while I took Eliana into the baby pool. She cried for Michaela, she cried for Christian, she cried for all the lost opportunities of splashing around with her siblings, she cried because the heartache she had would let her do nothing else. I distracted her for moments at a time, she jumped off the side holding onto my fingers, stuck her fingers and toes and hair and nose in the water, and then went back to her weeping and wailing for those who left her behind. She tried to follow them, but fell down and scraped her knee. "Towel! Towel!" It seemed to be the end for her. I cuddled her in a towel for a little bit, and I thought she might sleep on my shoulder. She probably would have, but I asked her if she was going to sleep which brought out a fighting,"No! Pool!" More of the same sadness followed us into the water, though, so I opted for a change of scenery. I took her over to the big pool on my hip and watched Christian and Michaela for a bit (they were playing with some friends over there totally unaware of their sister's heartbreak and sorrow).
Then Michaela wanted to take Eliana into the baby pool, which thrilled that little girl to no end. The two hopped over to the little pool, Eliana shrieking with delight that her personal pool playmate had returned. Unfortunately, Michaela wanted to play a game that a weary, scraped, emotionally-wrought toddler was incapable of understanding...Michaela would say,"Bye-bye!", swim away a bit, turn around, and come back. Eliana would burst into tears, hands held out, calling,"'Chaela? 'Chaela!" I told Michaela that Eliana was in no state for such a game, and she tweaked it a bit, but things didn't improve much. And then Michaela was ready to go back to the big pool. She had friends over there. I can't tell you how sad Eliana was that her beloved sister wanted to leave the lovely two-feet-deep waters of the baby pool to go play games with the big kids. I tried more distraction, but how can I compete with the sister? How can I compete with someone who is actually willing to get wet in the pool? How can I compete with someone who is happy to get splashed by the fountain or by the kid with the big floaty who keeps whopping the water and jumping in so that everyone within fifteen feet gets sprayed?
I went back over to the big pool and told the other kids it was time to go. Eliana was officially losing it, and I had to get dinner ready anyway. "Just a little longer? Fifteen more minutes?" I was mean, and replied that we just couldn't (kindly!). They finally got out of the water and joined me at our bag in order to dry off. Michaela pulled a dollar out of a bag that she had brought. I told her we weren't buying anything because we were headed home to eat. I thought a minute and said that tomorrow we could come a little earlier and get a special treat. It's something we hadn't done yet, and won't do every time, but once in a while it'll be fun-a slushie or something. Oh, the feet that dragged to the car. The lip that hung down to the ground. And then when we got to the car Christian cried out that he had lost some of his Lego men while he was swimming. Lego men? Why did he have Lego men in the pool? I have no answer for that question. But it sure did lead to some more weeping and wailing...for the lost Lego men, and the parts that were gone forever...the helmets, and the legs, and the weapons, and the bodies. Lost in the depths of the pool, swirling amidst arms and legs of strangers who did not know about or care that a little boy had left behind a piece of himself pieces of his Lego men to sink to the bottom of the pool or be carried into the filter or maybe even stuck in another little kid's pocket. I actually went back in order to look for one piece, because do you know that in all of its ironic glory, a helmet floated past me and I scooped it out and tossed it up on the concrete. If only I had known... I left the pool for a second time, empty handed. But I did have all the kids in the car, so...points for me?
Is this day over yet?
Once home, I took Eliana in the shower with me, because I have to get cleaned up immediately after being in a swimming pool. There are just no two ways about it. For Eliana, being in the shower is as fun as torture followed by Michaela's game at the pool. There is something about the curtain and the spray that sends her into a fit of fury or agony, I don't know which. I took care of myself as quickly as I could (sort of like the oxygen masks on an airplane...put yours on first so that you can effectively take care of anyone else who might need help) and then got her washed up. Christian was next; he got in as we got out, and I headed to dress and get dinner ready.
Things were back on track and going well. Eliana was looking forward to macaroni and cheese, and I thought Michaela was upstairs showering. Instead she slowly peeked her head around the kitchen door with the saddest look on her face. She then told me I hurt her feelings. I was so surprised! I tried to get her to tell me what I did...this took a while. In fact, I think she might have gone up, showered, and come back down before she ever told me what had hurt her feelings. It was about the buying of a snack. I tried to explain again why I had said what I said, and then I pointed out that I promised we could do it tomorrow. At some point things ended up being fine, the food was served, and Eliana did something funny that made everyone laugh. You'll have to use your imagination, because right now I can't remember what it was. I was determined to get everyone in bed by around 8:00, even if they weren't sleeping for a while. Since Eliana hadn't napped I figured she'd be out pretty quickly (of course, this could have gone the opposite way and she could have ended up hysterical or totally wired...). What a blessing, though, I was right and she settled down pronto. I left her in her bed and because it was still reasonably early went to lie down with Christian. He wanted to hold my hand, and then he wanted to hold both my hands because then he would always know I was there (that's what he said). He finally fell asleep, and I dragged myself out of a bed for the second time in order to do the dishes and the laundry. I checked on Michaela (who I hope fell asleep soon after I came downstairs) and did some cleaning up.
"Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives..." They slip quickly by. Unlike sands through the hourglass, which pass quietly and smoothly, the days of our lives are filled with enough drama and excitement that the quiet nights are so very welcome. Peter Reckell, eat your heart out!
(By the way, Peter Reckell was not really there at the pool...but the man that was looked so much like him, I couldn't believe it! I didn't want to fool anybody too long, though.)
life together, silly in Uncategorized
Reader Comments (3)
I seriously visualized your whole day...you did such a nice job writing about it that I couldn't help but visualize it. And the part about leaving the Lego men behind...oh my gosh. So glad to hear my son is not the only other boy on this planet who thinks the Lego men are the most important pieces of Legos and take them EVERYWHERE with him (and lose them, but always find them again thanks to that BIG POUTY LIP that comes out...sigh). So funny...
Wow. I'm worn out just reading about it all.
I have to say that the summer when I could finally sit by the pool with a book and just look up occasionally to check on the children was probably the best summer since childhood!
Mercy. I scanned this entire monologue looking for a meeting with a beefcake at the pool. I really thought you met Peter Reckell. I need to get out more.