Some Days

It's official. Some days are just plain better than others.

One a frosty morning I burrowed under a fluffy, thick comforter.  When I pray at the start of each 24, I think God understands about the cold thing, and also about my bad knee from the first and last marathon I attempted to run. I stayed buried under the blankets. My 'undercover' prayer was this: I was yearning for some time to reconnect with my kids. I asked God for a day where that could happen.

Since the offspring have matured, I've seen them less and less. Splitting up their time between their dad's and my house, there's a cut. New driver's license. Cut, cut. Social life. Big, big cut. Dating: I'm lucky if I see them at all.

Yesterday, something peculiar happened. Time eased up as if it were slogging through peanut butter. The day seemed to move along very slowly. The kids came home and stayed home.  My huge now-adult-age boys flopped on the couches in the living room and--amazingly--remained there. I flopped too, and witnessed their usual Abbott and Costello act. I begged my oldest to rub my feet, poking him in the leg with my toe. He and his brother burst out laughing, openly mocking me. "Yeah, RIGHT," Son One said, "I'm not falling for that one!"

They all knew the story about how I used to con my little sister into giving me footrubs by promising her a quarter each time. When she'd been reluctant, I'd bump it up to fifty, possibly even seventy-five cents. I now probably owe her in excess of a hundred dollars. These days, it would be really cool to unexpectedly send her a hundred bucks in the mail. I should do that. But currently, my sons are aware that I still owe, so no foot rub.

Both were moaning and groaning, sore from the flag football tournament the day before. When Son One said something I didn't approve of, I lightly kicked him in the fanny with my nearest foot, and he howled. I'd momentarily forgotten that was the spot that had taken the brunt of things during football.

Son Two loudly complained about the craziness of the older guys. I tried to explain why that might be a semi-dangerous situation to put one's self into. Men in of a certain age that still regularly wear their high school practice jerseys and are living with their parents. Combine that with single girls they're trying desperately to impress...and no matter if it's flag football or tiddly winks, someone's gonna get hurt.

Sis bursted through the front door a few moments later and I followed her into her room for a debriefing, since she was wearing a look that said she could use one. She was, indeed, feeling very contemplative. The people she'd just spent a day with didn't turn out to be what she had thought they were; she was somewhat disillusioned. Sis expressed gratitude that we had our own brand of crazy, a kind she was used to and could handle. I was glad to hear she liked our craziness.

We joined the boys in the living room where they were still flopped on the couches. Long ago we had discovered that Son One's skin was made of rubber.  Proud of his natural talent, he now pulled skin five inches off his arms and claimed he was wearing a flying suit, while  I exclaimed, "Ew, ew, ew!" He wrinkled the skin up around his knees and created lovely rosettes. He then pulled two panels out from his tummy like giant lips and made them talk. 'HELLO MOMMIE! I AM THE TUMMY MONSTER AND I AM GOING TO EAT YOU ALL....HAR HAR HAR!"

Son Two, not to be outdone, smooshed his stomach together and made it talk in an even lower, more sinister voice. It was the Tummy Monster on steroids. He also created a double chin that ballooned out, while croaking like a bullfrog. Sis and I were delighted. Apparently we had two elasti-kin.

Son One tried to top that by now pulling the skin of his neck out and over his chin, creating a pocket. We were curious to see if he could hide some candy in there. We found that he could. We all concluded that this would be a nifty magic trick to do for young children. "Want some candy, kids?Just reach right into my neck...."

The grand finale consisted of two talking tummies, singing and conversing with each other, with Sis and I in tears on the couch, begging them to stop since we were exhausted from laughing. Mixed into the concert was Husband, doing very serious work stuff down the hall. Not at all amused, he would occasionally holler from the office, "You guys are outta control!"

---Which only made us laugh harder.

With mascara sliding down my face and holding my (non-talking) stomach, it suddenly dawned on me that my morning prayer had been answered. Right in the middle of so many days where we'd only orbited around each other, we'd just had one miraculous day of connection.


Some days are just plain better than others.