A pair of preppie-ish blue and white plaid shorts.
Grey Converse sneakers.
"Ryan, you don't match."
"Yes I do."
"NOOO, you don't!"
"Well, it doesn't matter."
Exasperated sigh from the sister with the fashion sense.
The mother intervenes.
"Ryan, it really doesn't match; please find a different shirt." (because the sweatshirt has the sleeves cut short and is not my favorite). He slumps off to the kitchen where his clean clothes are, still in the clothes basket with the scent of fresh spring air still lingering in the seams.
He digs through a clothes basket and what does he change? His shorts. The sweatshirt remains.
Then he puts on a pair of khaki shorts, changes his mind, tries jeans, then goes back to the khaki shorts.
With eyebrows raised and head slightly down, he looks up at me as if asking, "Just for you Mom, is this better?" I smile as the clothing harmony has been restored once more. And the boy is off to see what there is to eat and finish putting the various odds and ends into his backpack that he deems necessary for survival.
The girls are in and out of each other's room, borrowing shoes and scarves. I like when they are like this; it reminds me that I too am a sister. I think my sisters and I borrowed each other's clothes once in a while, but not much. Adrienne has to drive to the school this morning, so she is giving the others a ride and they can leave 15 minutes later than usual. That extra time makes the morning less crazy, less crammed.
Breakfast? On their own for the most part, as it is most mornings. I envision myself making pancakes, eggs, or waffles, but in reality it rarely ever happens. The last egg sandwich on toast I made Ryan ended up in the back seat of my car only about 1/4th eaten. They just aren't in the mood for breakfast, unless it is Saturday or Sunday and we have more time and Leo is here. So, it is either cereal, peanut butter toast, yogurt or fruit most days. Maybe not the "ideal" breakfast of champion mothers, but for me and them, it'll do.
Either Amy or Heather fed and gave water to Shakespeare, and I go out to untangle him and go on a quick walk to expend some energy. His energy, not mine; I haven't even had my coffee yet. The air is refreshing beyond belief and I inhale deeply. The blue sky with clouds edging the horizon is promising a beautiful day, but then Shakespeare and I are suddenly being pelted with raindrops. What!?! Raindrops in the sun? The pond was speckled with drops and the shower lasted, maybe, a minute.
The girls and Ryan went out the lane, I finished walking with Shakespeare and now I am waiting for the coffee to brew. I like mornings, I do. It's just that I am usually still asleep. Maybe, just maybe, I could be a morning person. Not a morning morning person, like getting up at 5 or 6 AM put a morning 7 or 8AM person.
"The best things are nearest:
breath in your nostrils,
light in your eyes,
flowers at your feet,
duties at your hand,
the path of God just before you."
Robert Louis Stevenson
Love,
Dianne
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