It’s the kind of day where my kids get in trouble if they even ask to watch TV. A little sun, a breezy 75 degrees, perfect for batting practice or fort building. So perfect, in fact, even I was eager to abandon all chores in exchange for a bit of quality time with my boys.
And there it is: the conception of disappointment. It’s not like I laid on my back and closed my eyes, designing the fantasy. In fact, I didn’t even know it was there. It simply appeared in my head and at the exact same moment, my heart latched on like a bottom-feeder on a hot dog. What I now find fascinating, is how completely unaware I was...until the Moment-Grimm-Reaper danced away with my fantasy stuck to the bottom of her tiny shoe.
We’re in the baseball phase. Both boys have decided they are only one pitch away from a home run even though “novice” is a word reserved for kids two bases ahead of my children. Nonetheless, I’m not a dream damner - I’m a fantasy finder. And today my whim demands a mom with a glove and a barrel of patience until alas, a Mario Andretti is born. Wait...hmm...
Anyway, they were already out the door when I uttered my first ‘just gotta’. It’s hard to gain enthusiasm before breakfast and a shower. I just gotta grab something I can hold in one hand outside the shower curtain while using the other to lather. I won’t even dry my hair or put on make-up.
Flicking off the bathroom light I flew to the laundry room. “I just gotta get this load started - it will take me two seconds.” I didn’t even take the time to check for crayons, pennies, rocks or pocket knives. I threw in the colors and pushed Quick Wash.
Suddenly, my fantasy returned in the same fashion as all things I deem important; instantaneously. There and then gone. But it’s a good thing it came at all. For what I had failed to realize the first time was the essential ambiance my fantasy required. Three glasses of ice cold water and my mini-Bose sound system blaring Tim McGraw. Yes..that will make this “moment” perfect. I just gotta get my iPhone and empty the ice cube trays.
I made it to the front porch before I realized my own baseball glove is in the garage downstairs. I’m back in the front door when it occurs to me, our dog would probably love to be outside playing with the family. I just gotta find her.
Back out on the front porch without my glove - again - I travel around the house and down to the basement. There are three mitts in the bottom of a milk crate. I just gotta figure out which one fits. None do. No problem - I just gotta put on a batting glove to add bulk. None of those either. Now I just gotta find a ball.
Finally I’m ready - the fantasy which has been lurking near my consciousness now comes just behind my eyes. I travel up the gravel driveway just in time to see the Moment-Grimm-Reaper standing in my front lawn. I stop as I watch her red hair blow in the breeze and her innocent smile captivate both of my sons. A 9 year old girl who loves to play catch and build forts sweetly asks if they want to go play in the sprinkler.
I can’t compete with that.
