Today has been reflective, as it goes when the boys are at their school. I did some writing this morning when I got home from taking Aaron to work and some errands, and then after lunch went grocery shopping. Alone. It's different without my little guys trying to help, or knocking stuff off shelves, or picking on each other, or asking for all kinds of treats. It's just me and my squeaky-wheeled shopping cart, and I can mosey and read labels, contemplate a new variety of tea, flip through a magazine in the checkout isle, and all of it without the constant hum of activity my little boys produce when they're with me. I relish it and miss them simultaneously. I walk through the baby isle just to remember it wasn't so long ago that I practically owned stock in the baby isle. Now diapers are long gone, bottles, burp cloths, the beautiful bonding of nursing...all those things that seemed so hard--AND WERE--but so precious, as well.
After groceries I picked them up from school and on the way home heard all about the Pokèmon cards that Brian had given Andres, and how Andrew and Daniel took Raph's Joker toy in class today, and Andrès saw the whole thing, expanding on his side of the story.
"So what's the plan today when we get home?"
"Well," Andrès started in an authoritative voice, "I'm going to do dishes then clean the Cannonball's water, then go play at Hawthorn's house."
"Yeah," said Raph from the very back seat of the minivan, ever a loyal lieutenant to Andrès.
They have a little friend from school, Hawthorne, who has moved in next door, and he spent a good deal of time at our house this summer, although I only allowed Wednesday for friends to come over. I sometimes had 7 kids here running amok during July and August and I couldn't have handled that everyday, so I limited it to one day a week. It worked out well. But now Hawthorne has all the video games and we have none, so he invites the boys to go over, and they do for an hour or so. Like all signs of maturity on their part, I welcome it and grieve it, celebrate it and lament it, at the same time.
As I unpacked and stealthily hid the special candy that will be tucked in stockings by Santa, Raphael had TP duty (opening and delivering rolls to fill all three bathroom's TP baskets), and Andrès did his chores as promised. When Cannonball was back happily in his bowl, they rushed to get their shoes on. I realized that I must have had them on my mind because I got them a new caffeine free tea called Sugar Cookie Sleigh Ride to have with their snacks in the afternoon, a box of hot cocoa with a fresh bag of mini marshmallows, and a case of ginger beer to go with our pizza dinner on Friday.
"How long can we stay?" Andrès asked in a rush past me.
I did some math in my head because I wanted to hit the bookstore and get a book for school tomorrow, calculated driving time there and shopping time, and allow driving time to get Papa from work.
Before I could answer Raph was already out the door at the mailbox, spinning around in the cold gray day with the sweet look of joy on his face.
"Raph," I called to him from the house, rushing after him with produce in my hands, "Wait for your brother!"
Andrès burst out the door onto the lawn, the wind blowing his long hair in his face, turned to me.
"When do you want us back?" He called.
"Four fifteen, not a minute later!"
"Okay Mom! I love you!" And he blew me a little kiss.
"Love you Momma!" Raph called out over his shoulder, hand in hand they ran.
"I love you, too!" I called back to them.
Then they were gone, vanished around the tall bushes that separate our property from Hawthorne's. I could see flashes of them through the branches, running to ring the doorbell, and watched until I couldn't see or hear their voices any longer. Then it was just me and the green bell peppers in my hands, and my feet cold on the cement.
