Now, on to the Third Hour...
Five-year-old Sweetheart comes into my room, the kitty-cat face that her sister Bard drew on her last night with eye-pencil still slightly visible. I wrap my arms around her in her morning hug and she giggles. When she pulls back, she looks at me very seriously.
"Is one nostril nose for breathing in an' the other for breathing out?"
"No," I answer, "they can both breathe in and breathe out. Look." I cover my nostrils one at a time and demonstrate. She does the same, and then hands me a pencil and paper and asks me to write the word "would." I do.
I hear silverware clinking downstairs. I hope it's someone putting the dishes away, and not throwing them around the kitchen. I later find that Houdin, indeed, put the dishes away.
Nine-year-old Monet enters my room, hands me the same piece of paper on which I wrote "would" for Sweetheart and asks me to write "those." Hmmm. I wonder what they're planning.
I check my e-mail. There are fourteen messages. Five are from Freecycle, so I check to see if there's any good stuff on there. A Hammond organ, dried roses, disposable nipples, large bouquet of artificial flowers, and a wanted for a mattress and box springs.
I get dressed, pulling on my favorite jeans. Gap, size 16, button fly bootlegs that I got at a yard sale for two bucks. I cut off the bottoms and they're so hip-ply frayed. I also pull on a t-shirt from the local coffee bar. I like the t-shirt because it's a cool color, it feels nice, and it's an indication to locals that I'm not a tourist.
I hear jump-roping downstairs. I feel a slight headache beginning. I take my vitamins.
It's time to get some things done. While I'm going about my business, the kids follow me around showing me things and asking me questions. Houdin is working on a new magic trick. He drops a quarter in a little green box and then magically produces it in his hand, shaking the box to show that there's no longer a quarter inside. I know how he does it. I tell him it needs more work.
Sweetheart appears again, with a new piece of paper.
"How do you spell 'can?'" She follows me into the laundry room, and I sing the "C is for cookie" song, and then explain all of the things that look like a C. She writes a C. She already knows "a" and "n" because they're in her name.
I pause from doing my laundry to take a picture of of Sweetheart writing her note, on which she has already drawn a little girl in a flowered dress and written the words, "Sweetheart (not her real name) and "Mom." As I finish clicking the camera button, she says, "You should take a picture of me eating ice cream." Houdin calls from his room, "Nice try, Sweetheart."
Monet is in his room, sitting at his desk writing in our journal. It warms my heart to see him there, his room so clean, writing in the magical book in which he and I share our thoughts of the day. I'm carrying his clean pajamas, which I would normally put on his bed for him to put away, but because I have such a wellspring of lovein my heart for him right now, I walk over to his dresser and start opening the drawers. "Third drawer," he says, smiling. Some days are like this. Other days are not.
Sweetheart: "How do you spell 'we?'"
Houdin asks if he can play RuneScape. "Have you done your three things and your chores?" This is a reminder to feed the goats, guinea pigs, clean his room and do three helpful things that no one has asked him to do.
"I've done the chores, but not the three things," he answers.
"Okay. After you're done," I tell Houdin, "I want you to write a GOOD first draft of your Favorite President essay. It's due in a couple of days." He agrees. He doesn't care for writing, and he's the one who really has a hard time spelling, but he agrees without argument. He cleans the bathtub toys out of my tub, cleans off the kitchen table, and does a load of dishes. The phone rings as Houdin brings his journal into my room to write his rough draft on my bed.
The phone call is from Bard's friend Kat.
"I have one question."
"I have one answer," I tell her.
"Is Bard still coming on the camp-out with the youth group?" I tell her that, yes, she is, and ask how much I owe for the trip.
"My mom's paying for it," Kat answers.
"Oh, no she's not," I say. This is a game that Kat's mom, Shawn and I play with each other. "I'll just have to find a sneaky way to pay her back. It's fifteen dollars, right?"
"Yeah, but she won't take your money," Kat tells me. I hear Shawn's voice in the background. "Don't steal my blessings!" She says.
"Tell her she's good," I say.
"You taught me well," she responds. I hand the phone off to Bard so she can chat with her friend. Now I have two kids asking me how to spell things.
Houdin: "How do you spell 'Franklin'?"
Sweetheart: "How do you spell 'go'?"
Houdin: "How do you spell 'scottie'?"
Sweetheart: "How do you spell 'on'?"
Houdin: "How do you spell 'Fala'?"
Sweetheart: How do you spell 'date'?"
Monet comes into my room with his magical book. He has written me a wonderful note in response to my note to him.
My note:
Dearest Monet,
I had such a good time watchng you and Houdin build your fort today.
It's SO cool! I took pictures. I'll try to print some out so we
can tape them into this book.
Do you like the book Mandy? What is your favorite part so
far?
I (heart) you!
Love, Mom (smiley face)
His note:
Dear Mom,
That would be cool! with all of those picturers in my book. Oh and
Sweetheart helped with the snow fort so write her a note. And go back to the
last note I wrote you and read the thing that has the arow coming out of it.
Oh and my favorite part of the story is when she barows the tools from
Jake.
Well, that's all.
Love,
Monet (smiley face)
I go back to my laundry. I find $5.00 and some change, a $5.00 wal*mart shopping card, a few magnetix, a hershey's kiss wrapper, a tissue, a spider pin made out of pipe cleaners. I don't know what I didn't find. I won't know until it's too late.
I eat a Luna Bar for breakfast. This is not unusual.
Sweetheart hands me her note. "Can we go on a date," it reads. She's looking at me with hopeful eyes.
"Yes," I tell her. "Make sure your room is clean and you have clothes on that match." I'm trying to think about what we can do on our date, and I'm hoping this headache goes away soon.
But it's not. It's getting worse, almost nauseating, and radiating through my body. I may have to take something, or lay down with a warm sinus mask.
Visited Full Life. Left a comment and a shameless plug.
"How do you spell 'left?'"
"How do you spell 'taxpayers?'"
"How do you spell 'turn?'"
I write a note in Monet's journal as I wonder what would happen if I got a call from one of my Amish neighbors asking me to drive today. I'd be away for more than an hour. I guess I'd just audioblog. That'd be cool.
"How do you spell 'package'?" Houdin asks.
"P-A-C-K-A-G-E," I answer.
"No," he answers, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "It's B-O-X."
