Continued from Part One, found here.
The house begins to fill with light and the smell of pumpkin. There is laughter from the adjacent room, her daughter is watching a video, on the computer of babies crying for strange reasons. The giggles echo out into the kitchen and we exchange smiles and can't help but laugh too.
The house begins to fill with light and the smell of pumpkin. There is laughter from the adjacent room, her daughter is watching a video, on the computer of babies crying for strange reasons. The giggles echo out into the kitchen and we exchange smiles and can't help but laugh too.
Her son comes downstairs from his room, where he was tidying up and playing music. He starts to chat with her about his Pokémon cards and they share giggles and a funny story from school. The pancakes cook and she sips her coffee, giving him her undivided attention.
The conversation turns toward his height and they stand face to face, as a measurement tool. "Stop growing." she playfully, endearingly says to him. He smiles, straightening his back a bit more. He is proud.
The food is finishing up and she begins to pull plates from cabinets to eat on. All of the plates have a story to them and no one plate matches. Her son sets the table. There is so much unity and "pitching in" here. The kids do their fair share to assist her, and love to help.
Finally, breakfast is ready. They all gather at the table and the mother cuts her daughters pancakes. They pass around the syrup and dig in. Its twenty passed ten and the kids eat as if they are famished. Two, three and four pancakes are consumed by her son. He lectures his sister on her syrup usage and how its "covering her whole plate, like a puddle." The mother asks him to mind himself and his plate. He goes back to eating and his sister grabs another pancake, to soak up her "puddle". This time, she cuts her pancake by herself.
During breakfast, she reminds her son that she needs his help in the yard, out front. He groans and looks down at his plate. He quietly, mumbles a "Yes ma'am" under his breath. After breakfast, the children help clear the table and bring the dishes to the sink. She then tells her daughter to go take a bath and her son to get dressed and to put his shoes on for outside. He puts his shoes on and heads outside to meet her. Initially, he helps with hesitation, but eventually his disposition changes and everything is back to normal. They carry on meaningful conversation including the plan for the yard and garden; what is a weed versus what is not. He actively helps her trim the rhubarb bush and follows directions, quietly. He drags the trash can over as we fill it with weeds. Eventually, her daughter emerges with her head wrapped in a towel and one shoe on. "I hurt my big toe" she tells me, "..the shoe squishes it".
After the weeding is done, her son brings out the lawn mower. The lawn mower "usually has trouble starting". We discuss an old fashioned push mower, she laughs. She parks it behind her vehicle and checks the oil, gas and choke. She pulls, more than ten times. She texts a friend who's helped her before with starting it. They send back detailed directions, yet, it still will not start. Her son asks to step in and tries to direct her in how to start it. She lets him take over and try. He inspects, pulls and inspects. No success. His facial expression looks a bit defeated and he allows his mother to take back over the process. She pulls and pulls. In excess of twenty times. I even try for a bit, no success. She gestures at the mower and lowers herself down to the pavement in exhaustion and frustration. Her daughter plays with a simple, small bead. Tossing it in the air and at one point losing it under the car. She is quiet and transfixed by her bead and she is off in her own little world playing.
Her son puts the lawnmower back into the garage and we all retreat inside before the rain comes. The mother, decides its time for a bit of TV and quiet time together lounging in the living room. Before sitting down she gives a gentle back rub to her daughter as they talk about what to watch. This gesture, I have seen her do, so many times. It is the simplest gesture of love and comfort, that they will never out grow. This is a day in the life of a single mother.