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mara williams
on May 21 2013 - 06:00 AM
Summer break has this mom on a house upkeep war path.
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Lindsay Metcalf
on May 21 2013 - 06:00 AM
When that tornado siren sounds, I'm in the basement
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My oldest son is one of those black and white thinkers. Thinking outside of the box is kind of hard for him. This has always been kind of dumfounding for me. I consider myself a grey thinker. But maybe not, he has been watching me live in the box-until recently.
For the second year in a row I have gone away from the homestead to ring in the New Year. Sure, I was home before the clock actually struck midnight, but who cares about technicalities? I was not at home.
Last year’s festivities were tamed down a bit because I only knew one couple at the party I was invited to. And then there was the laryngitis I was sporting. Conversation was minimal, but I did a lot of nodding, And smiling. I had my boys’ home before midnight and thanks to modern technology, we watched the ball drop together from Times Square.
To bring in 2012, I packed up three of my four kids, a friend of theirs, the cowboy caviar I make every year and the banana cake that I am pretty sure will be the next must have for all of our coming New Year festivities and we drove a bit to party with some friends from church.
The boys played video games, the teens hung out and talked and I, with my voice, sipped one adult beverage and lots of water and talked, talked and talked. I visited with a friend who has been out of the country for the last few months and shared in her enthusiasm in her trip to Mexico, how she is enjoying retirement and her new hobby, writing children’s stories. I caught up with some women who I used to see weekly and I don’t get to see at all. The peals of laughter in the air echoed through my soul, recharging it. I didn’t realize just how much I missed seeing my friends.
I listened and more importantly I laughed. I smiled as the host and I stood in the kitchen and talked, him chiding me for being ten years older than him (yes, 2012 brings the monumental 40 for me) and me poking at him for having that Jack LaLane Juicer sitting on his counter (he admitted he hadn’t actually used it that much). He stopped occasionally and played video games with the boys. I mingled, mingled and mingled some more and everyone was a just having a great time. I still had the kids’ home by midnight, in time to see the ball drop on Times Square, sparkling cider in hand. But there was not one ounce of regret.
Just think, just three years ago, and the years before, I stayed home for New Years. The kids and I, we would have snacks, our rented movies and with luck, watch the ball drop at midnight. I made the rules, it was safe, I didn’t have to try very hard, and I definitely couldn’t fail. I didn’t have to worry about whether I fit in or not.
Last year, I gave my box a door. I swung it open and left, for a bit. I came back and shut the door, but this year, I opened it wider. So wide that I don’t think I am going to be able to get the door shut again. I make the rules and I don’t have to live in that box if I don’t want to.
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