They know me TOO well

A house full of teenagers is a house that goes to bed later and later, and our mornings were starting later and later.

So this week, I declared that all teens should be in bed by 10 pm, with a book or kindle, no phones  Last night, from my bed, I heard doors opening and closing and footsteps in the hallway.  Glancing at the clock, I saw that it was 10:20 pm.

Ah-ha, I thought, climbing out of bed and heading toward the kids’ rooms.  Seeing a light under the girls’ bedroom door, I knocked and entered with my most terrifying frown.  Prairie takes one look at me and rushes, “Mama, you would be proud of us.  Rachel and I were downstairs having lots of liberal conversation with the boys until 10 pm.”

My girls having liberal conversation with their brothers?  Well, okay then.

I blew the girls kisses and told them goodnight.  In bed, I relayed our kids shenanigans to Sid.  “They’ve got your number,” he said.

 

In which I wonder if I am raising responsible adults and who determines that anyway?

A knock breaks the silence of the room in the basement, where I might have chosen to be for its potential to hide me for 30 minutes.

“Yes?” I muffled, refusing to change position, my forehead pressed into the rug.

The 19-year-old walks in.  “Just an update to let you know what’s going on in your house,” Sidney says.  I concentrate on keeping my shoulders relaxed in child’s pose and breathing deeply.   Stay in the yoga flow, peace, mindfulness of the breath.  Though I can’t resist a mental eyeroll, a tiny ripple in my river of peace.

“I just electrocuted myself in the mouth a little bit and your phones don’t work, but I’m working on fixing that.”

“How is your mouth feeling?” I dutifully ask.

“It’s alright.  It was only about 48 volts.”

I’m glad that I did not lift my head for this.

 

* * *

 

Later, I overhear Sidney and Lincoln talking . . .

“You electrocuted yourself?” Lincoln asked.

“Well, it was only 48 volts,” Sidney replied.  “You don’t feel that in your fingers, but you really feel it on your tongue.”

Confused, I trip into the conversation, “Wait.  How do you happen to feel it on your tongue?”

Sidney grins, “Because I licked it.”

 

My whole purpose

In a conversation with my 19 year old son today, he told me, “You inspired me . . . ”

And

I did not hear the words that came after

because my brain latched onto those 3 words

I looked at his sisters and brother,

“Will y’all carve that into my gravestone?” I asked

She once inspired her son.

Feeling vaguely pleased with myself

until I realized that I had rudely stopped

hearing my son, interrupted him even.

Chagrinned, “I’m sorry, you were still talking but I was not listening. ”

He said, “I said that you inspired me to get back to work on building that table for my elements collection.”

She once inspired her son to build something.

I just want to lay in this small puddle of contentment,

happy that in this one breath,

I inspired my child to create,

rather than to fracture or tear down.