This evening Zoe and Asher came to visit us. Asher is Zoe’s 2 year-old brother. The family has a piano recital to attend, and toddlers aren’t allowed--to make the the experience more worshipful, they said--brilliant idea.
So they were dropped off at 6:30, and I realized how unready I was for two more children coming into the house with every intention of playing…with toys…the same toys we spent the majority of the late afternoon putting away. They also arrived with every intention of eating, eating, and eating. They’ve already had, undoubtedly, a home-cooked organic meal with greens and homemade bread, but they’re here. And Zoe has already told her brother about the occasional presence of Cheez Doodles.
For a few years I have made a joke that I get off work at 8:00 PM. The punch line of the joke, of course, is that I'm on call 24 hours a day, and I usually work 19 out of those 24 hours every day.
Another joke I have is that when the cleaning of the kitchen is done for the evening, I say the kitchen is “closed.” The punch line of this joke is similar to the one above. And I usually wake up finding the leftover meals with the shrimp or meat eaten out of it, half-eaten bowls of slimy cereal, or a bag of nachos left open all night.
I didn't realize how attached I've become to closing down the kitchen. I also didn't realize how I have become attached to 8:00--the hour I get off work.
These are dumb jokes, but I think they're funny. I didn't realize how my heart would resist getting knocked out of its comfort zone. I need to work on this.
