Seems it's so often about the food. Affection goes only so far, and past that good food is what's needed.
For three weeks this holiday season all my kids were home. I cleaned the house, tried to declutter--which is a process I expect to be complete as Teresa leaves the house in however many years--loaded up on necessities, then started thinking about the food.
Eden likes Cinnamon Life. Check. Everyone else likes Reese's Puffs, and I only buy them for "special occasions." Check. Bread dough on hand, makings for hummus, plenty of ice cream and toppings just in case, extra popcorn, lemonade mix, milk, dozens of eggs and bacon--"ready" and "regular", chips, cream cheese and salsa. I was ready for everyone to be home.
We don't all wind up in the same place at the same time very often any more. It's precious, even when I see the big boys are really men now, anxious to be more independent even if that means they eat a lot of Ramen noodles instead of homemade bread with nice cheese. I'm glad they are at that stage, but for this small space of time it is magical to sit up at night to visit, hear what they think, discuss future plans, and feed them.
Fitting nine people into the house required a little give and take. The girls shifted from their room to make way for the two oldest guys when Rebecca, Jacob's beloved, came. Becca to the downstairs room, boys to the girls' room, girls to Mary's room. Mary then moved to her hammock, which was an adventure but not actually very restful. Teresa slept on a beanbag chair put on the lowerbunk in Mary's room--the one without a mattress-- predictably winding up with face sporting an imprint of wooden slats each morning. Our being in the bedroom above Becca meant that she was awakened each morning at 5 a.m. as we prepared to go walking, no matter how slealthy we tried to be. Not good when we are already two time zones earlier than her accustomed California.
I do not generally give curfews to my kids who are in college, although my imagination occasionally gets uncomfortable with what they may be doing in the wee hours. So they sleep until noon and there is some tension among the younger ones in trying to tiptoe and be quiet. In the summer they have been yelled at for waking sleeping brothers before lunchtime, and they don't want to be on the receiving end of that during this break.
Despite this, and despite trying to figure out whose turn it was to use the shower, or the washer, or the screen in the basement for games, movies, or whatever, it was a gift to see everyone's face around a table sharing something tasty at night. Becca was here several days, and the girls were (and are) thrilled with the near-reality of having a bigger sister. It was good for the kids to see that Eden can match anyone in being funny and warm. It was fun to listen to younger kids repeating conversations held with older sibs, knowing that they intend to follow every speck of their advice. It was encouraging that the advice given was uniformly prudent.
The dishwasher was loaded and emptied as many as three times daily. Mounds of Christmas gifts, laundry, food, dirty dishes, and toilet paper were required. Glorious!
But when everyone had gone by Sunday evening, the house quieted down a bit, and the boys' clothes and gear had disappeared from various rooms, Teresa also got quiet.
"Mom," she began, "I don't think I feel very good. My throat is a little sore. I think my tummy doesn't feel right. Do you think I have a fever?" She always puts a hand up to lift her bangs so I can check.
I squint a little and look at her. Teresa is the baby, the darling, the one sibling who everyone treats well. She loved getting to see Rebecca, and making little gifts for her (literally "little"). She will miss Eden playing and chasing her around the huge dining table, Jacob picking her up and spinning around with her upside down. She will miss hours sitting with Mary solving Nancy Drew game clues or watching James do computer stuff. She will have less time with KK, whom she adores. Maybe she hasn't had a lot of my attention, while I shopped, cooked and baked, picked up, replaced toilet paper rolls, and tried to find just the right combination of acne-fighting products for the teens. Just being sure that each child had presents from us and presents for each other was a logarithmic issue. Maybe she, more than me, needs extra comfort as everyone goes their separate ways.
"Do you think you might need to stay home from school tomorrow?" I ask. She knows I'm lenient with taking "personal days", especially for kids in first grade. How much can you miss in one day of first grade? Not likely anything that will matter as you leave for college. We can go over spelling words (boat, coat, rain, strain) and read snuggled up in bed with the electric blanket on high. We can count it as a "school visit day", checking out how homeschooling might work for her next year.
She ponders this. Teresa likes to think about things before she answers a significant question, likes to have the necessary information. She puts thumb and pointer around her chin, looks up to the ceiling, and is quiet a few moments. Sometimes I wonder if she's really thinking or if she has simply figured out how that looks. What exactly does she need to know that she doesn't know? Warm bed, favorite books, popcorn, hot chocolate, ummm...??
"I think maybe I'm not going to feel good enough to go to school tomorrow. But before I decide for sure, can you check the school menu?"
Ah, yes.
