Lucky Me

It was hot today.

I had some work to do in the morning, then it was my turn to have the kids and let the hubbs rest-off his summer-time cold.  

They had already done the pool; they had already gone for a bike ride.

The water park sounded fun for them, but just plain hot for me.

Roller skating?  Trampoline gym?  The movies?

Maleficent looked to scary for one child; Echo didn’t interest the other.  And then the decision on the theater.  No, I’m not paying full price for a movie you guys saw already.  And Lemurs of Madagascar starts in 15 minutes, there’s just no way …

… “ya, Mom, let’s go!”.

Encouragement was given by the virus-laden body on the couch, to go to the movie.  The energy from their two bodies ramped up before I even knew what was happening.

I’m pretty sure I glared at him.  The virus, that is. 

I don’t like being rushed.  And I didn’t want to run around in the heat.  And, and, and. 

And so we rushed into the car.

I do not like to feel rushed.

Parked, rushed to the booth, tickets purchased, rushed inside, and we are inside the cool theater.

I don’t do well when I’m rushed.

And yet, finally, I relaxed.

They were excited, and goddammit I was, too.

This is the kind of thing I feel I miss out on when they go with someone else.  

This is the kind of thing I want to do more with them, the kind of memory I want with them in it.  

I could learn to be more open to their ideas; I could  certainly learn to show a bit more grace when it comes to accepting a plan that is spontaneous and at a pace that I don’t consider synonymous with calm. 

Would it have killed me to show a little more excitement, instead of gripement, as we rushed out the door?

I’m so lucky that they accept me and my flaws.  That they hold my hand anyway.  That they look to me when they laugh and ooooh, and aaaah at the lemur in the 3D branch that they swear they can touch.  That they love me, despite me, and the things I could do better. 

 © Houseman 2013