Headed home to slice…

“Great zero waste snacks,” I called out to Peter has he rolled his water dispensers and masons jars down the hall following our after school faculty meeting.

“Oh, thanks,” he replied. “Heading home to write your slice?”

“Oh! It’s Monday! Thanks for the reminder. That will give me something to think about on my drive home…”

My drive home… the relaxing part of the evening. If only I could just come home and “slice.”

Instead…

I picked up my girls from my parents’ house. A one stop pick up today- doesn’t happen often these days. As soon as I walked through the door, 2/3 of the children turned on the tears and melted into the floor. The “baby” was left standing, studying the puddles left where her sisters once stood. Taking notes for another day and time, I’m sure.

About fifteen minutes later, 2/3 of the children were buckled in their seats, ready to head home. Adi needed a lift. So back into the house I headed. As I got her tee-shirt clad body into the car, she informed me that she likes to be warm. Noted. I’ll try to make sure her coat sleeves aren’t wet tomorrow and that she doesn’t toss her sweatshirt and socks into my mom’s washer before heading home (a daily ritual).

Finally home and it feels like maybe the storm has passed. Wren settles into her homework routine, finishing four tiny assignments all in one night so just have to manage the reading the rest of the week. Adi has brought me her princess drawing book and has requested I draw a mermaid for her to color. Afraid that turning her away may bring back the tears, I pause the lunch and dinner making and draw my best mermaid among the half emptied lunchboxes and homework folders tossed on the kitchen counters.

Satisfied with my drawing, Adi runs off to color and I keep working in the kitchen. I decide to finish the lunches to get all of that out of the way. Soon Rose has joined me. “I want more. I want more, mama?” She repeats over and over. She brings me a bowl. She is hungry. Into the high chair she goes. Lunches are on hold again as dinner takes priority.

Somewhere between cutting meatballs and then watermelon, I draw another princess. Unfortunately, the princess does not meet Adi’s quality criteria. “I just did my best,” I say as she huffs away.

“Well your best was not good at all,” she says, turning back to give me her best mean eyes.

The evening continues. Dinners are eaten. “More,” is demanded. The tv is turned on to buy me a few minutes to clean up the tornado that happened in the kitchen.

When I declare that it is time for “teeth,” the toothpaste we have been using for the last six months is suddenly too spicy. The tears return.

We all head upstairs. We have almost made it to bedtime. Adi lingers, still upset about the toothpaste. “We’re all going upstairs,” I tell her. “You should come too.”

She rolls her eyes, the tears still flowing. “Who cares!”

“Ok. Goodnight,” I tell her.

“Wait for me,” she says. “Don’t leave me here!”

There was more drama at bedtime. Pull-up negotiations. Mean songs sung. “I’m not sleepy,” protests from the clearly overtired one.

I wait for the quiet of sleep. I begin to fret about my Slice. I don’t have to “publish” in the morning. Tuesday is 24 hours long. I really have nothing. I wanted to write something thoughtful about school. Today wasn’t the day for inspiration there.

So this is what I’m tapping away… laying in bed with my oldest daughter. Listening to the quiet of everyone finally sleeping. Planning my escape and crossing my fingers it lasts until morning.

So, yes Peter. I headed home to slice tonight…

7 thoughts on “Headed home to slice…

  1. Your slice is a wonderful example of taking the “everyday” and finding the story. You did so beautifully and took us each step of the way with you as your evening unfolded. So many well-constructed sentences popped out at me, that I can’t share them all. You are so good at capturing life with your children, knowing when to summarize and when to share a line or two of revealing dialogue. I’m so glad that Peter reminded you to slice!

    Like

  2. Your afternoon sounded exhausting! Your post brings me back to my days as a mother of three Young children when each day was a new joy and challenge. I am left wondering how you ever write any slices?

    Like

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