I did not watch the Academy Awards. Well, I watched a little. The Captain came to find me in the little boy room, to tell me Two and Three wanted to watch the Oscars with me. I acquiesced, considering it a bonding experience, and stayed through "Best Supporting Actor," won by (spoiler alert) Christian Bale.
Two: "Wait. Christian Bale has an accent?"
Mom: "Yes, he's British."
Two: "Has he done any films with the accent?"
Three, in a superior tone: "Yeah. Don't you remember him in District 9?"
Mom: "He wasn't in District 9, honey. That was a South African actor."
Two: "See? You're even more stupid than I am."
Then I left to write the blog. I want to bond and all, but at a quicker, TiVo'd pace. And without the sibling sniping. I don't want to waste the time.
Years ago, the Oscars would have been marked on my calendar as a recognized day of celebration. Perhaps I would have hosted a party, or at least made puff pastry hors d'oevres for my personal consumption. Now I no longer have three plus hours to spare for sitting in front of my television. The competition for my time is fierce.
Earlier, I spent an eternity in the bedroom with Four and Five, reading books and then snuggling. After an hour, I went to climb over Five, and, semi-conscious, he clutched at me to stay. I rubbed his back for a few minutes until he loosened his grip enough that I could sneak away. We're both recovering from him vomiting all night long Friday and Saturday. I don't bounce back from those all-nighters like I used to when I was younger. By Saturday afternoon I had passed out on top of my bare mattress, stripped of the sheets that had absorbed Five's germs. When the Captain came to find me, I was so disoriented I thought it was Monday.
Sunday was no less fuzzy. Two was meeting his choral group at the wake for Sean, and I blinked back the tears as I reached up to knot his tie. I realized I only get him for about three more years. Then, hopefully, he'll be like his father, and leave for college and never come back. I know he'll still be my son, we'll be in his life, but it will be different.
I wish there was a life time-bank. One could look at the calendar, and rearrange the hours as needed.
Term paper due on Friday? Borrow hours from Monday and add them to Thursday night.
Sister coming for a visit? Save up and splurge for an extra day.
Had a fight? Shorten the days after, so you can get to the recovery faster.
Children growing before your eyes? Stop time as needed.
Time is flying,
life is rushing,
years are passing,
I am grasping.