The business of busy

Last night after coming home, taking a bath with Lea, putting on a T-shirt and clean cottons, I went downstairs to have a bowl of cereal and I saw the local newspaper there on the table. And for me, to have a bowl of cereal and to read a newspaper in silence, this is a quiet joy. I'll admit that I get a little giddy over it. And so I prayed, please let them leave me alone for this bowl of cereal and while paging through this newspaper....please.

There is no reading of the paper necesssarily, just paging. Since I'm interrupted by something ... the needs of the many, the phone, an obligation, something remembered that I forgot to do, sleep.... so often interrupted, I don't think my brain reads anymore. It skims though. So I can still do that...

So I prayed for cereal and skimming. And as soon as I settled into my chair with my feet up indian-style and no one else in the kitchen, I opened the paper... skimming something about a sting operation that the Hooterville cops have had going posing as 15 year old girls on the internet trying to nab "pedophiles." (Brief thought on this: They used to pose as 13 year olds, but now they are 15, isn't that funny that they are aging their pseudo-victims with the amount of time they've been doing this... Just the idea, grown men wanting to have sex with 15 year old girls who are advertising it, it's shocking. Hm, now that is well-worth my tax money in overtime pay...thank god Andy gives Barney something to do...)

....and within 17 sconds I heard little feet clomp-clomping down the stairs. Someone was coming to find me...

I thought if I was quiet enough he wouldn't see me. Like when you are small and you close your eyes and you think you won't be there anymore... I thought I could make myself small with absorbtion, being absorbed into a paper I can't read and a bowl of sweetened box peanuts..

He mingled and moseyed and eyed me with some curiosity, a tip of his head to see if I saw him, but being invisible I tried not to move. I tried not to send airwaves of movement that direction. He might catch a glimpse of my attention and then the spell of solitary would be broken.

So Steven said, "I think I'd like to have another bowl of cereal..." Just loud enough to stir me, but not speaking to me directly.

I replied gently, "Steven please go be with your dad for a few minutes."

He was like, "...what?"

"Just go be with your daddy Steven."

And he worked his way around my chair and back up the stairs. I was alone again and I felt no relief. But I ate cereal and skimmed, and a few minutes later Lea came down, but it didn't matter now. Being alone wasn't as important as it had been before I hurt my little boy's feelings. Solitary felt isolating now.

When I went upstairs later I went into his room and he was watching television. I said, "Steven you need to get ready to read for bedtime now." And he looked at me with sad eyes and I said, "I'm sorry I hurt you Steven. I just wanted to eat my cereal without having to do something for someone else. Just for a few minutes. You see? I just wanted to do something for a few minutes where I wasn't being asked for something from someone." He said sadly, "I would've gotten it myself..."

I said, "I know. I'm sorry Steven."

(Followup after reading this to Steven:

Steven: Are there more stories in there?
Me: There are lots of stories, I try to keep what I can.
Steven (saddled with "Steven's the favorite," and wanting to be fair to his sister): Are there stories about Lea?
Me: A few....

He waited a moment, nodded and skipped away...)