Simple gifts and thanksgiving

Some weeks just feel longer than others. But just as illness can help us better appreciate our restored health, so can the pressure of our routines lead to greater enjoyment of the respite times.

Friday afternoon was like an unearthly gift to me yesterday. I had been feeling unusually crabby this week, snapping at the kids quite unfairly, and out of proportion even for my irritable self. But Friday afternoon arrived and stretched out before me with no deadlines and nowhere to be. I changed out of work clothes (dry-clean only skirt, too-tight pantyhose, too-tall heels) and decided to wear sweatpants and a big t-shirt: almost as good as pajamas, and it was barely afternoon.

John and I read books in bed until he fell asleep in my arms. Dozing in a warm bed, with the late autumn sunshine beaming through the window on you, and with a warm, snugly toddler clutching you for dear life, is about as pleasant as life gets, I think.

Then James and Maggie got home, as I was still upstairs with sleeping John. As I heard the door open, I first enjoyed a private smile that I wasn't driving carpool today. The kids could just magically appear at our house. Then I grinned as I heard James say, "I don't think there is anyone home." I might not have grinned if he had sounded concerned, but actually, he sounded excited, and downright conspiratorial, as he informed Maggie of their potential freedom.

Still, I thought I had better bring them up to speed quickly. Not wishing to rise and wake up John yet, I knocked on the wall above my head to get James's attention below me. He came bounding up, and confirmed my suspicions by the slightly disappointed look on his face to discover me at home. (As if we had ever let them come home to an empty house before, and they would expect it?) Still, James's good spirits rebounded quickly when I whispered to him that I was staying put a bit longer so John could have a better nap. "Okay, Mom!" And off he scampered to inform Maggie that they had hit the jackpot.

Sure enough, I next heard the TV flip on. The kids were sure they were home-free to vegetate as long as they wished. "And why not?" I thought to myself. That was exactly how I felt myself, on this Friday afternoon. Shouldn't they have a right to feel that way sometimes, too? So they enjoyed PBS and I enjoyed lounging in bed with my arms around a sleeping two-year-old. Decadence and indulgence all around.

Of course, even justified (?) decadence demands payment eventually. My arms fell asleep and my toddler-furnace was baking me. So, I snuck out from underneath him and went to fetch the big kids. I enticed them away from TV with a suggestion of baking zucchini bread. For one enchanted afternoon, they baked with me not only enthusiastically by cooperatively. They took turns. They took their time and spilled less than usual. They fetched ingredients from downstairs without griping about having to do "all the work." Half-way through the process, John awoke and staggered out to join us. Though groggy at first, he quickly joined in the fun and stuck with the program of good behavior. For a while I just sat back and basked in the vicarious glow: my three favorite little people lined up across the counter from me, all getting along, having a good time, and working hard.

Jeremy arrived home late, and I wasn't even frustrated or bitter or fuming, for once. I didn't need to - we were all doing fine. And dinner was leftovers, so no stress of trying to cook while adjuticating disputes. We had a quiet, if bizzare, dinner of chicken enchiladas and zucchini bread. Not actually a combination I would recommend again, but the kids loved it.

Then, our perfect Friday afternoon was extended into evening when Jeremy built a fire in the fireplace, the kids put on pjs, and we ate popcorn while reading bedtime stories on the couch.

Nothing remarkable in our day. And yet, more refreshing in a few hours than many of our vacations. The simple truly is a gift.