Now I can't find it anywhere!! Don't you HATE when that happens? Man...
By "it," I refer to the second book in my most favorite series in all the world: the Chronicles of Narnia.
One of the (many) items on my summer bucket list was to read this series aloud to my four girls. Years ago, I had taken the time to read the series to each of my three younger siblings. How could I do less for my own kids?
Except, I can't find it.
Don't you dare bring up the library! I am on the "Wanted" wall in their lunchroom. Stretched to its utmost capacity to keep the many plates of motherhood in full spin, my brain simply cuts off at book due dates. Especially now that they don't stamp the books. That's too old-school. No, they just hand you a printed receipt of return dates which my youngest child typically has torn to shreds and eaten before I get to the parking lot.
Going to the library is an exercise in humility. "Do you realize that you have five items overdue? (Yes) That were due back in February? (Oh) Your bill is now x. (Yowzers!)"
I can pay x, usually. But then I have to consider which y I will pay for the next "rental."
Plus, I bookmarked the page in Caspian. I would know where I was... And no, I can't skip. ! That's totally cheating.
So the search for Prince Caspian continues.
In my frustrated pawing through stacks of paper, along shelves, and in drawers, I've found many other emblems of mommy guilt, tributes to the forgetfulness of a distracted and busy life. I've found half-finished projects from weeks, months, even years ago that were paused to wait for mom to obtain some crucial color of glitter or type of paint to complete the next step. I've found drawings and stories I was supposed to mail in somewhere to be put in frames (it was prepaid too, for crying out loud.) I found favorite pieces of clothing I was supposed to sew or patch that most certainly no longer fit.
Saddest of all, I found a small bag containing a beloved glass figurine I remember a preschooler carrying around. I distinctly remember having to gently pry pudgy hands off the pieces, promising (oh, I promised!) to repair the tiny ballerina and give it back nearly as good as new.
That preschooler is now 11.
Teary-eyed and furious, I ransacked my craft section, only to become sadder still. Several years later, I still don't have the right glue.
Defeated, I sat down to hold the broken statue in my hand. As my fingers gently ran over the ragged edges, my memory reviewed all the little promises of childhood I've unintentionally left unfulfilled.
We'll come back to the big slide later. I'll read you that story later. Can't watch the home movies now, maybe in a couple of days, k? We'll cook blueberry pancakes together soon.
Sooner became later, and later remains... not yet. And then, sometimes, now is too late. And the big slide gets an eye roll, as the once little girl starts to pull out earbuds.
She's probably totally fine with not getting back here in time to enjoy it like she would have, and I highly doubt the lack will scar her emotional development. But it's different for me...
I grab the ear buds. I tickle that overgrown baby of mine.
And I race her to the slide.
Today is the day before school starts for my second daughter (yes, I'm homeschooling the oldest, and not the younger one. We won't fit in anywhere.:) I've achieved most of my summer plans, but it isn't perfect... not yet.
So I started the day making blueberry pancakes with my girls. It was a gloriously sticky affair of melted butter and dripping measuring cups and way too many bowls and frying pans. Then we went to Chuck E Cheese and touched every germ-covered skeeball and button and token, and little noses were pressed to the glass prize display to select the plastic bracelets that will only thrill them for a year or two more. And before they get boring, tonight we're watching those home movies.
St. Anthony, keep an eye out for Prince Caspian, please. And someone remind me to buy super glue... We moms need all the help we can get. :)
"Not that I have already reached the goal or am already perfect, but I press on