Growing up, we loved the movie “Pete’s Dragon.” I mean loved. Now, I’ve come to understand we watched it so often because my mother really liked the movie, too. I observed her willingly join the kids snuggling in her bed after Christmas this year when she learned what movie was on tap for the evening.
I love the way Ann Murray’s character lovingly transforms Pete with some good old fashioned mothering. And the joy and love they share as they paint the light house hand in hand singing “It’s a Razzle Dazzle Day…” That and all the clicks, murmurs and giggles shared between Pete and Eliot, the fire breathing, freckled pink haired dragon.
Well, those tunes are still quite catchy and even months after the Christmas viewing, we still hear Pete’s Dragon songs repeated with enthusiasm around our house.
Yesterday was one of those days. However, it took on a new twist. For me, it was the first day back in the saddle again after a complete week’s vacation. Daddy-O, or Hubby-O, in this case, took me away to paradise for a week – just the two of us. It was delightful. Each moment of nothingness. Just sitting still, listening to the crashing waves and trying to stay awake long enough to read a book or two. Not a bad week. A real gift.
But then, as it is with every vacation. Reality hits quickly. We joke that our tans fade the moment you get on the airplane. And when we deplaned and were greeted by fresh snow and frigid temperatures, our tans were nearly nonexistent. Oh, well. It was nice to see the sun for a week, at least.
The first day home was like a dream, even if it was a snowy one. The boyz were excited to see us. And it was mutual! They loved the little turtles (stuffed) and sea shells and chocolates we brought them from the airport. But mostly, it was good to all be together again. A week is a long time to be apart.
But when Monday morning suddenly arrived, I realized how my mind was still on vacation and how ill-prepared I was for reentry into our school day routine. I got up early and got ready, but was still running behind and never quite caught up. Racing to make sandwiches it felt like a scene out of the movie “Overboard”where Goldie Hawn smeared peanut butter and jelly on crumbling pieces of bread and schmooshed them together as rapidly as humanly possible in order to make the bus because she’d just learned that the alternative was they would stay home with her all day.
I always decorate the boyz lunch bags with sharpee markers. The more time I have, the more intricate the designs. (this year there’ve been a lot of Olaf the silly snowman) But this morning, I barely had time to scribble “I heart u” on the bag and track down pieces of milk bottles for lunches. It was in this frantic moment that I discovered that Fletcher’s lunch bag was missing – I mean gone. It was as if someone had stolen my hair. I was searching and searching. I finally concluded it must have been left at school when Nana was on duty last week. I was not looking forward to cleaning out that lunch bag when we hopefully (and did) recovered it at school. I can remember throwing Carter his lunch bag to catch and stuff in his book bag and somehow Kiefer’s mad it into his backpack. They raced out the door – but still missed the bus. (she’s always early on Mondays!)
The rest of the day I was still chasing those five minutes, and losing time left and right. Taking Griffin and Fletcher to school, we were late, stopped to catch up with the Preschool director, making me late for my coffee meeting, ran over chatting and was late for my lunch meeting with my dad. Picked the kids up on time but the homework, dinner, bed time routine was also crazy. Mama’s out of practice! It doesn’t take long to adjust to eating out each meal and not having to wear a watch or even look at a clock. The only appointment was to witness the setting sun on the beach each night. Last night we were having people over after bedtime for a Bible study and Daddy-O had a very important date with Griffin for Dad’s night at preschool. Griffin had been looking forward to this for at least a month. He was dressed in his western duds for at least two hours before they had to leave, hovering while Daddy-O finished phone calls and paperwork before it was finally time to go. They feasted on hot dogs at Dad’s night and we reheated left overs. But cleaning up I was again feeling frazzled with the impending arrival of our guests and the state of our kitchen floors looking like a battle ground of rice bombs.
I mumbled something about feeling “frazzled” when Carter was trying to tell me a joke or a trick having do to with an eraser – I’m not sure which. Then he started singing, “It’s a FRAZZLE Dazzle day”… never a better interpretation had been sung and at that moment, tears stung my eyes. A reminder of the kind of mom I want to be to my sons… like Ann Murray and Pete. The kind of mom I vowed to be just days earlier while on the beach. Not the frazzled, worn out, crazed mother that I tend to be. But the relaxed, joyful, singing, loving mother that I want to be.
Oh well, there’s always tomorrow.
