On my day-off
“You have the ability to turn my day around.” For better or for worse- As clichéd as it sounds and as much as I hear Ferris Bueller laughing his head off, l do think cozying up with you on the couch, eating take-out food while watching a random, well, a war movie is the perfect way to spend my occasional day off from work. It’s only been light years since this transpired to be. Much thankfulness for that. This day-off will be etched, forever in my brain.
If you went about your day’s business and I had no company, I would just sleep all day. That would be my other perfect thing to do.
Evening comes, the gesture
The electric scooter was fantastic. It’s moments like those that stay in a child’s mind forever. “Papa, remember that day you got me that red scooter, it was so cool!” My cup runneth over.
Dinner is served
Dinner time is not my favorite time of the day. The hope is, that it will eventually be. An idyllic setting for family fun. Simply listening to stories of your child’s day at school will do it for me. Togetherness is vital in my routine. Blame it on upbringing, but I always stayed by the side of my family, we dined together, we quarreled together, the list is endless. It’s what everyone does, I’m certain about that.
Anyway, realigning with the topic, can someone please advice me to quit asking kids what they want for dinner, and just serve them whatever I whip up instead? I’m setting myself up for the inevitable. A fancy request, a dish that has zero ingredients in the pantry, or the proverbial “idk”. Most often, I don’t get a response and eventually dinner is what I imagined it to be.
I get about my evening chores, often multi-tasking, but also ensuring the demands of my two year old are being addressed promptly to avoid a mighty meltdown. By now, the kitchen is upside-down. Cutting boards and knives, onion peels, bottles of spice, the salt container on the edge, chunky vessels, non-sticks and ladles are everywhere. Not to forget the phone with water droplets on it, school binders misplaced on counter tops, Doc McStuffin’s shenanigans invading the TV space, and a toddler tugging at your right leg, half dressed. In that penultimate moment, the spouse enters and utters these words. “Why is the kitchen all messy”?
Did I mention that patience to me is a fleeting thing of late?
“It only takes a spark to get a fire burning.” There’s been many a spark; it’s a wildfire we are talking about. What about last Saturday, when I sacrificed four hours of “me” time and cleaned up the garage to transform it to the meticulous state it’s in. The caffeine addict in me occasionally will leave the coffee stirrer in a un-rinsed state only because the urge to drink that cuppa is indeed a strong one. It’s these one-off cases that I’ll be taunted about for the rest of my life. Not the memory of me down on all fours shining the hardwoods, not the glorious sight of me emptying the potty training chair, not my robotic self – sorting and folding loads of laundry week after week.
My day-off started wonderfully well, and ended it did, on the other side of the spectrum.
But before you know it, another day unfolds and I’m about to stir that coffee again…