It is 7:30 on Monday morning and the house is nice and quiet. My husband and our middle schooler have already left for the day, and everyone else is asleep. Today, everyone includes our two other children, four guests from Ohio and four guests from England. Later today, my sister-in-law and her four kids will arrive for a quick visit and a delayed Easter egg hunt.
We had a wonderful weekend celebrating Easter with family and dear friends alike. Sunday was bittersweet as we all felt Danielle’s absence. We gathered around the computer to talk to her and, as usual, there were at least five friends in the room and others walking in and out. Every mom should be blessed with a child as happy as ours at university.
Some in our family are presently not as healthy as others, so appreciation for all of us being together was something tangible yesterday. One could almost touch it. As usual, my mom confused Easter with Christmas, so there were gifts for each of the children. The Easter baskets overflowed, as it seems apparent that I will be providing them for my children until they have children of their own.
The sun is shining in through the window onto my desk and the birds are chirping outside. I tell you all of this in hopes that over the course of the next two months you will be kind enough to remind me of the peaceful times. You see, today begins the project called “the kitchen.”
Our guests will probably read this today and wonder, what the heck is she babbling about? Family, friends, birds? Doesn’t Madeleine remember that we all stayed up until past 11 to help empty the rest of the kitchen? Does she remember that she made us put away all of the Easter decorations (think many large Rubbermaid boxes) so that they wouldn’t get dusty? Who does she think carried all of the stools, chairs, and table down into the playroom? In my defense, I divided the labor evenly. I can’t even tell you how many times I made my eight-year old niece run up and down the stairs.
The workmen will be here in a few minutes and noise and dust begins. Sadly, I don’t do dust very well. In fact, I woke up during the night with a huge pain in my stomach thinking about it. Those who have come before me and who have actually survived a kitchen project have shared their war stories with me. They’ve told me how the dust from the construction permeates every nook and cranny in the house. Some have told me that the dust remains to haunt them for years.
…. It is now 9 am and chaos ensues. Our British friends are keeping calm and carrying on, already having foraged for breakfast in the playroom. The wonderful girls who arrive each Monday to help me keep the house in order have already taught me a new word. Did you know that “basunga” means disaster in Portuguese? The kitchen is covered in plastic and I am now listening to the sounds of drills and hammers. My sister and her husband left for a two-day mini vacation. Did they even say goodbye to their kids? I have never seen them move so fast. The rest of my family – cats and dog included – are simply dazed and confused.
…. It is now lunchtime and the people who remain want to be fed. I thought I had made it very clear that we are going to spend the next few weeks eating lightly, as in a few lost pounds won’t kill you. Unfortunately, I have very intelligent nieces and nephews and one is about to read me the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of the Child. Oh, brother.
Have a lovely, dust-free week!
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