I didn’t really know what to do with myself while the house was empty, but then I realized it would be a great time to do some yoga without having cars crashed into my shins and chaturanga’ing onto spiny plastic Batman ammo. I rolled out the mat and right as I got started, my cat Don came over and plopped himself down between my feet, which he then began bunny-kicking.
I looked around and noticed ALL THE CATS were out. With the exception of Nicotina (the dummy who refused to run even after Chooch CUT HER EAR with SCISSORS), they mostly stay hidden until Chooch goes to bed. This morning, they were all out, exploring the house sans Chooch. It was kind of nice to get to spend time with my furry kids.
Even if one of them was marring my ability to do yoga just as badly as my four-year-0ld does.
Then I wrote in my blog without interruption and even HAD A PHONE CONVERSATION without the need to lock myself in the bathroom. It was odd. And awfully disorienting. AND I LOVED IT.
Henry came home from work so we could both go across the street, under a sheath of a loving Catholic relationship, to get Chooch from school. A parade of minivans and SUVs lined the fire lane; we walked past all the mothers talking loudly into cell phones from the driver seat and sat down on the steps. I was a nervous ball of energy – hands wringing, legs bouncing.
“Wait – I was supposed to pack extra clothes in his backpack in case of an accident, huh?” I asked Henry, remembering suddenly.
“You ass! This would be the day he’d pee his pants, too,” Henry pointed out. And you know, thank god for that Henry. Last night, I thought I had everything ready for Chooch’s first day. Then I came downstairs this morning and saw that Henry had added to my pile things I never would have remembered.
I think Friday is show and tell. Hopefully I remember that. I anticipate a ton of future “Mom, you FORGOT THIS again”s. I only do thing half-right, or not at all.
The doors behind us opened, emitting a burst of excited kid voices. Chooch ran up to me, HUGGED ME, and said, “I missed you!”
MY SON DID THAT.
WITHOUT BEING PRODDED.
And he was smiling so big! And his pants didn’t have a urine-soaked bull’s eye!
“We had to sing a Jesus song,” he said when we were in the house. “And the end part was ‘Amen!'” he sang, bringing his hands together in a soft clap. “And I was like, ‘I don’t even know what that MEANS.”
He said everyone sat on the rug and the teacher asked, “What do you help your daddy do?”
“I said I help my daddy pick up clothes,” Chooch said, mocking his own voice.
Oh, that’s funny. Because last time I checked, I was the one picking up disgusting father-son boxer briefs and carelessly strewn socks from ALL PARTS OF THE HOUSE.
When I was in Kindergarten, I told the class my real mom lived in Paris and was coming back for me one day, so I guess I should check myself before wagging the finger.
I just asked him if he was excited to go back to school on Friday and he shouted “Yeah!” in a very annoyed tone because I interrupted his goddamn Adventure Time show.
I think we’ll be OK.