D-to-the-feated

CVS has been texting me like a desperate ex for days: "Come get your prescription, Emil Gros. Come on!"

So I schlepped over there today and you'll be shocked to know that the prescription was not to be found. Seems it had been filled at another location. Swell. I love you, CVS, said no one ever.

***

I went to the market to get yet more food for carnivorous, apparently-always-starving children. I drove around the garage for 8 minutes, could not find a parking spot, and so attempted to leave before I was late to pick the boys up from camp. 

"That'll be $3."

"Um, no. I didn't even park."

"But you were here for more than 7 minutes."

"Because I was looking for a spot and I didn't find one and now I have to leave so I'm not late."

"$3"

"NO!"

"Ok."

***

A side table arrives, and I unpack it carefully. Atop the glass shelf is etched "TEMPERED GLASS." This idiotic label cannot be removed, and so when you place the shelf atop the table, you are reminded that your glass is TEMPERED each and every time you look at it. I packed it back up, called Customer Service, and UPS is picking this item up tomorrow.

I have no further words on this subject.

***

Apparently, the children drank Arse Juice at camp today and came home to act like hooligans. They spent half the afternoon naked, whooping and yelling about their Rebellion. 

I found clothes hanging from my closet light, 97 stuffed animals thrown over the stair balcony, Legos everywhere, and this. 

Who would dare do that to my boyfriend? 

Seriously, people, I was not amused this evening. I took away iPads and dessert, and later, Jack yelled that I was "SO unfair, and just because I've been a jerk does not mean that I shouldn't get to listen to my book on tape."

"Well, young man, indeed it means exactly that."

But he wore my shit down, y'all. Just grated at me until I was nothing more than a thin rind sitting behind a snowy pile of shredded Parmesan. And I had no more fucks left to give. And so I lost this one and hardly care. #sotired #Dfeated

***

And then there's this gem from the Republican National Confucktion in Cleveland. Mother of...

REALLY? No other colors available for elevator naming?

Sleepless because...

For Jack's combined graduation-birthday gift, all of his grandparents and Tom and I went in together to give him a new bed, bedding, and nightstand. It was time to make the leap from twin to full, and he picked out a really darling bed -a navy blue twill upholstered frame and headboard with a gold J monogrammed on it- a preppy, stylish nightstand in white wood with brass hardware, and a cool new Star Wars quilt and shams. 

terrible color rendering and yes, i know the bed is not centered. j does not want it centered. #idunno

He has since invited everyone in the family to join him for a night in the new sack. My mom and Oliver took him up on the offer immediately, and reported good nights of sleep.
Yesterday, Jack said that for his birthday, he'd reeeaaalllly love it if I'd experience his bed too.

I agreed because even though I doubt most ten-year-olds sleep with parents and maybe at this point I shouldn't bunk with my sons anymore, it's also really dear that Jack still asks and really does want me there.

Immediately, Tom said, "You are nuts. You'll get a terrible night of sleep. Jack kicks!" To which I replied, "I'm sure it will be fine."

As I played with Nutmeg from 2-4 am this morning, bleary-eyed and tired of rogue limbs flailing into me for hours before and a pretty significant amount of talking and moaning in his sleep, I silently vowed to never slumber with Jack again.

Uploaded by Emily Grossi on 2016-07-06.

But I wouldn't trade it for the world. Even though it meant giving up time with Tom and losing sleep and being pretty uncomfortable, I know what it meant to Jack. And therefore, to me. 

We snuck out for a bit to watch local fireworks from our favorite window seat, and once back in bed, I rubbed his back until he settled and his breathing slowed and deepened.

"Mom, this has been the best part of my birthday. Thank you. I love you."

"I love you too, honey. So much."

I imagine last night may blur into a vague memory or an amalgamation of similar nights as the years stretch forward and beyond. As with all the travel we've done with the boys since they were tots, I don't expect or profess to know what they'll remember clearly and what they won't, what they'll flat out forget and what will matter a great deal. 

But I think (hope!) that an enduring foundation is being laid, one that will withstand time and aging and fault lines and tectonic shifts. 

I hope that Jack always knows how loved he is and that he can draw strength and comfort from that when he needs it. 

Last night, as I rubbed his back, and his perfect lips slackened in sleep's gentle embrace, I thought about how a parent's love for her child sustains but also takes.

At least for me, loving my children and striving always to do right by them often means carving away from other deserving, important things: my marriage, my free time, my extra-parental interests, my energy. There never seems to be enough time, and yet I never regret moments -brief or lengthy- like last night or the recent Lego marathon for in a rushed life, they feel relaxed. In a scheduled life, they feel spontaneous. In the relative brevity of childhood, I hope they count for something. They do to me.

Home!

We left Wrightsville Beach on Friday morning and headed northeast a couple hours to visit friends in New Bern. They live on a creek, and it so resembles the bayou on which my parents live that I nearly gasped in familiarity. Isn't this beautiful? There is even Spanish moss, boatloads of it, like in LA. 

We paddleboarded, kayaked, picked blueberries, experienced a walk-up only Dairy Queen for the first time, swam, talked, laughed, and caught most of the continuation of the INCREDIBLE Djokovic-Querrey matchup at Wimbledon. Seriously, did y'all see that game? Holy smokes!

This morning, we packed up again, but this time to head home. 

There is something so liberating about being elsewhere, about shedding the daily to-dos of regular life. But after a while, I always start feeling a bit unmoored and itching to soon throw my ropes around the cleats on home's dock. We pulled in this afternoon just as everyone started to dissolve in car-bound craziness. Long road trips really test the love, you know?

Tom hauled ass inside, changed his clothes, put in his ear buds and raced to isolating zen of the lawn mower's loud engine. I checked on my garden -new leaves on both blackberry bushes! tomatoes! squash! OKRA BLOSSOMS!- and then hauled ass to the market, the words "No, I will not buy a storm trooper costume. Make your own!" trailing from my mouth as the boys begged.

I returned home to this masterpiece, a delightful repurposing of ninja wear, old Tae Kwon Do gear, a Rebel pilot bib, and the storm trooper mask we already owned.

See kids? I knew you could do it! That is not, by the way, a diaper!

Tomorrow, Jack turns 10, and somewhat to his dismay, I am sending the boys to day 1 of camp. We have celebrated J three times already, and really, this mama needs a day off. Tom promised to assist with additional costume making tomorrow afternoon, and I offered a (yet another) blackberry pie.

Double digits for my firstborn! I remember his birth with total clarity, not least because even though my contractions started at just minutes apart, I plugged in my curling iron and fully planned to style my hair before my mother intervened and, wisely, told me to get in the freaking car instead. 

happy Jack at 8.5 months

I have missed this space and hope to settle back in to my regular routine now. Happy 4th everyone!