We sat at home and he ran around the house in red sweatpants, climbing things and digging INTO things that he shouldn't be.
"Momma. I want Barney."
"I know baby. We have to wait for tomorrow morning."
Ohhhh How I envy the mommies of today, who can just On Demand Bubble Guppies on a whim, or even better, pull it up on their phones.
But back then, it was just the two of us, in a house, bored and waiting for the 8:00 am showing of Barney on PBS.
I looked out of the window. The leaves were swirling on the pavement of our driveway.
"It is Autumn Shane."
"What's Autin?"
"Autin is a time of the year. There are 4 times of the year and Autumn is one of them."
He climbed up the back of the couch and looked out of our window. We lived in a teeny tiny duplex that housed Shane, Chris and I.
It was 1 bedroom 1 bath and a kitchen. (one that I suspected USE to be a laundry room)
"Do you want to go for an Autumn walk? We can hunt clues!"
"Yes!" He shouted. But it sounded more like "YETH!"
Shane had a lisp. (And still does)
I bundled up my tiny son, we held hands and left the house.
On our walk Shane ran ahead and chased after the swirls of leaves that danced on the streets.
He screamed and laughed and caught a few.
When he did he would bring them to me.
"Leaves fall down?"
"Yes. In Autumn they do."
He looked so sad. "Why?"
"To make room for new ones."
He picked up the leaf and threw it back up to a tree. "Go back." He shouted.
But the leaf twirled back to the ground.
"It loves you!" I laughed
He nodded, (Very seriously) and shoved it in his pocket. "I keep it." He muttered.
As we walked, I would thread my fingers through his fine blonde hair. Enjoying every single crunch that his small feet made while he stomped through a new pile of leaves.
16 years later I can hear his laughter, smell the leaves and remember the feel of his hair between my fingers.
Even then, at 19, I knew that these moments do not last. They flutter by...then speed by and are gone.
Life is what you take from it.
What you glean off of the top as you work and sleep and drive.
****************************************************
Emma was 3.
And the house was quiet.
Which is bad if you have children.
What quiet means is simply this: Your kid is off fucking things up. Period.
You never notice it at first. It is always when you realize "Wait. Im calm. I'm relaxed!...oh wait!! Where is my kid?"
I found Emma on the floor in my bathroom digging through all of my lovely makeup. The makeup that I had JUST purchased as a splurge to myself.
I opened the door.
My child looked like a miniature hooker. Her lips were rimmed with my hot pink lipstick and she had missed her eyes with my eye shadow, so the blues and greens decorated her cheeks.
"What are you doing Emma Elizabeth?"
"Nothing!" she insisted, as she tried to hide my silver metal makeup case behind her tiny body.
"Nothing?"
"No Nothing. I love you!"
"You did not put on mommas makeup?"
"No!" she shook her head and a riot of curls fell over her shoulders.
I picked her up and made her face the mirror. "You did not put on mommas makeup?"
She looked at herself and blushed pink (It went well with the blue/green eye shadow cheeks.)
"Are you allowed to lie to mommy?"
She shook her head.
"Did you put on mommies makeup?"
She nodded her head. "yes." She whispered under her breath.
"I am proud of you for (finally) being honest with me. Did the makeup feel good?"
"Yes." again the riot of hair around her face.
"Were you going for Alien hooker...or?"
She looked at me confused.
"Why didn't you invite mommy to your makeup party?"
"I dunno" She shrugged her shoulders, and quite honestly looked relived.
"Mommy loves makeup. Maybe instead of hiding, you should TELL mommy when you want to play makeup.. Do you want to have a tea party with me and get all dressed up? You can do my makeup too."
She laughed out loud and ran to her room to get the box of "Happy" that she had collected. Inside it were dresses and hats and jewels and rings.
That afternoon as we sat down to 'tea' I looked like the MOTHER of all hooker aliens, and so did Emma. We had feather boas on and lace hats. Our hands were adorned with glittery gloves and big gaudy rings.
So what was replaceable. The makeup ....or the memory?
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