Wednesday 4 April 2012

Gold Stars (It's never going to work so here, laugh at my expense).

You land so awkwardly and never seem to learn
Still I follow you at every single turn
And I picture darker nights and longer sunny days
And hope that you will stay the same all year round

A message in the air that caught you by surprise
I sent it many years ago when I was wise
And I see you've built an army now while I have built a home
And I hope you haven't come to burn it to the ground
Just on the verge of my wanting to tear a strip from Caleb for his non-admissions of late, discovered on accident by a frustrated Lochlan (who would have rather kept silent for the rest of his life, truth be known, if only to protect me from the weirdness), the children decide to stage a coup d'état, demanding that their fathers start doing things together.

Or what? I asked. Or they start resisting everything, they tell me. Oh, and it's for your own good, Mom.

Every event features one man or the other but never both. The exception to this rule is (was?) family dinners, in which there are enough places and spaces in the house that they could both be here but never come across one another in the course of the evening. Opposite ends of the table and everything.

They both like it that way, frankly. But the kids do not and I'm sure the counselors/mediator/teachers/judge/Sam/God had something to do with this but they want us to do things as a family now. All six of us! Sorry, PJ, they mean (as) nuclear (as we can get), so step-dad, both dads, mom and both kids.

Six.

But we can't just jump into these things, because it would be weird and no fun and awkward so it's far better to warm up by having Lochlan and Caleb hang out together (Oh my God). Do things together (Jesus Murphy Christ). Ruth helpfully suggested if they could become friends maybe they wouldn't punch each other so much anymore.

So friends they will be.

(Children aren't stupid and they aren't completely unaware, but life has been softened for them in varying degrees with regard to our memories because that's the way it has to be.)

This morning I decided to get started, and take both of them (Caleb and Lochlan, not Henry and Ruth) grocery shopping. I played my insanity card, clearly. I failed to remember Caleb has his groceries delivered and has no clue about things like lists and budgets and comparison shopping, or better, waiting in line. He doesn't do pedestrian errands. Why would he? He doesn't have the need to blend in with the working class. I function as his personal assistant when I'm not busy being his torture victim/sugar baby or whatever he demands depending on the day.

(Hush, you.)

We started out on the wrong foot, too. First there was a dust-up over the fact that we were taking Lochlan's truck. Duh, Caleb. Three people and enough groceries for ten don't fit in his car or mine.

Then he expected us to go to one of the high-end markets downtown. I'm like, DUDE. We're going to Superstore. Oh, yeah. Yellow labels all the way. No-Name everything. I thought he might die from the bourgeoisie of it all, actually.

Thirdly it was cold and windy and I was looking at my car before we left (thought there was a ding but it's just dirty) and he pulled all of my hair up out of my collar and put my hood down. Lochlan counted to at least six before he came over and stuffed it all back in and pulled my hood back up. Because my ears plus a cold wind equal hurt. Not sure why. Lochlan knows that but Caleb doesn't.

And with that we're off. Once in the truck the devil frowned again because I'm wearing jeans and red Chuck Taylors and a green hoodie. He at least thought I should match. I sweetly pointed out that I do. I match Lochlan, I told him in my best elementary school voice.

(Okay, yes, fine. I'm digging now. My own grave. It's inevitable, I may as well get a head-start. Not even sure I need the full ten by three-and-a-half. Probably five by two will suffice. Three by two if you bury me in a fetal postion. Oh, look how dark I can be while choosing between President's Choice and Tetley teas. Just get it over with and kill me now.)

PJ sends me a text message saying that he can be there inside of fifteen minutes if they get into it in-store but really I should probably plan to call the cops because they could be there faster. I laugh and type back Will do without showing it to either of them.

And to their credit, they managed just fine once we were there and I could give them tasks (like children). They fetched things and compared notes on flavors and packed bags and then Caleb stood there and asked Who takes this outside? I told him You do and he just looked at me. So I said, Fine, I'll do it and then he kicked into gear and he kept looking back at me saying You can push this? To the truck? And I nod because I've been doing it for twenty years or more and he was sort of in awe of my sudden, magical brute strength and a little bit surprised at the amount of food I buy each week. He offered to pay for it but I told him that it was part of the household budget and we were fine, thanks and then he was quiet for a while. We loaded the bags into the bed of the truck and snapped the tailgate up, put the cover down and drove home.

I sat in the middle, listening with my eyes wide as they discussed the best restaurant meals in the city. Not sure that was exactly fair considering Caleb won't pay any less than forty-five dollars for an entree and Lochlan won't pay any more than fifteen, but they managed to talk the whole way home and Lochlan did not drive us off the cliff into the sea or anything.

They unloaded all of the groceries together and brought them in, taking several trips, continuing their discussion while PJ and August stood there in the front hall and stared, mouths open. I ignored all of them and opted to let them put everything away too.

When the last bag was empty, Caleb kissed my cheek and said he had to run. He said goodbye to Lochlan and then to the others and left and then Lochlan immediately said This is going to be a long spring and no sooner did I nod in his direction when a text message buzzed on my phone. It was from Caleb.

It's going to be a long spring, isn't it? He wrote. I didn't answer. It's a given. I just hope it works. It's probably the only thing we haven't tried but at the same time, you don't fix thirty-two years of bad memories overnight and at this point hope is in short supply.

As is patience.

And I'll be the first to admit I am not mature enough for this. By far.