23 April 2012

Sunday in the Bed with Five

The door opens and Five comes around to my side of the bed. We have recently purchased a new mattress, which rises Princess-and-the-Pea-like from the floor. It didn't seem so fluffy in the showroom, or we would have chosen one we can actually sit on while we put on our shoes. Despite the fact that I need a step-stool to gain access, Five scrambles up and shimmies his skinny body under the covers with ease. I throw my arm over him and pull him close.

"Mom, what day is it?" he asks.

"Sunday," I mumble.

"Arrgghh! That means I have Sunday school! Why can't I just have two days off like everyone else? It's really unfair, Mom, that I don't get two days off to rest. Didn't God say that Sunday was a day of rest?"

The Captain snorts from his under-occupied side of the bed.

"It's your last day of Sunday school, Five."

"So I'm making my communion?"

"Not this week; but it's your last day of class."

"Oh, okay. What time is it?" He rolls over to check the clock. "It's 7:28. No, it's 7:29. Do we have doughnuts for breakfast?"

"No, we have waffles." As I gain consciousness, a dull throb gains traction behind my eyes. I ask the Captain to let the dog out.

"No doughnuts? But it's Sunday. And why don't we ever get Dunkin' Donuts anymore?"

"Because they're expensive. The doughnuts that Nonni bought are fine."

"So we have Nonni's doughnuts?"

"No. They got eaten."

"Mom! That's so annoying."

My iPhone alarm rings, and  Five hands it to me. I roll over onto my back, because the throb has become a pounding in my sinuses. I hope for a positional cure, or the removal of any contributing factors. "Yes. It's also annoying when you yell at me. My head hurts."

"Oh." The contributing factor props himself up on his elbow and looks at my face. "Do you want me to rub it? Remember that time I rubbed your neck and it helped? I haven't had much experience rubbing heads, but I could try."

"Yes, thank you, that would be very kind."

I lay with my eyes closed. He places the heel of his small hand near the bridge of my nose and presses down, kneading the space between my eyes. "Is that comforting?" he asks.

It is neither gentle nor palliative, but his hand is cool, and he wants to comfort me.

"Yes," I answer. The throbbing keeps time as he pats my head a little for good measure. "Thank you, dear. Go eat your waffles."

"Okay. You feel better?"

"I do. But could you ask Dad to bring me some Advil?"

Five slides out of the bed, runs down the hall, and returns in a moment clutching a small cup of water and some pills. "Sit up," he says. I swallow the pills and lay back down."I'll put the cup here, just in case you need more water." He places it on my nightstand and jogs away. The room is quiet. I recall his hand upon my forehead, and am comforted.


  1. Lovely story. I miss those days.

    1. He is my last baby, so I am acutely aware of the time passing.

  2. Aw. He's so sweet! I don't know how you can fail him ALL the time. ;)

    PS Should he ever want a gfcf pumpkin doughnut on Sunday morning he's welcome to come to the Gallagher household. But he'll have to fight Sweet Girl for them.

    PPS You're Awesome!

    1. I don't know how I fail him all the time, either. It's a gift.

      Umm, I'm willing to fight Sweet Girl, because I love pumpkin doughnuts!

      P.S: You're amazing! But only until next week!

  3. One of my boys, Bud came and gave me a shoulder massage this morning while I was eating my Rice Krispies. I didn't even ask. They can be thoughtful sometimes, these boys.

    Nice story. See you Friday!

    1. They can actually tune into the needs of others every once in a while!

      Yay, Friday! I can't wait!

  4. You have to set your alarm for 7:30 on a Sunday! Wow! You Moms have it rough. As I have been saying for years, you need to come sleep over and see how the single gals live in NYC. Have you seen Sex in the City? It's just like that. You can bring your cocktail dress and spiked heels and we can go our for brunch. Then we will sit and eat cupcakes and pick up guys. Then you will generously

  5. I am having technical difficulties in my hotel room. It should read:

    Then you will generously donate your guys to me, because you already have a cool guy. Doesn't that sound fun?

    Also "out to brunch".

    1. It all sounds very chic and exciting, which pretty much sums up your life there in the Big City! I'm in, especially for the cupcakes.

      Ah, I remember the days when I would crawl home at 7:30...

  6. Oh that is so sweet. And you're raising boys that now to comfort. That speaks well for the future!

    1. We are hopeful they'll turn out to be good eggs. We've got a little time left for Four and Five, but that sand is running through the hourglass on the other three!

  7. That's just one great big pile of Awwwwww!

    1. You have an even younger one to snuggle with-enjoy!

  8. Beautiful! You're raising those boys to become fabulous boyfriends, husbands, fathers, and grandfathers.

    1. Fingers crossed, Robena. And toes.

  9. that is precious!

  10. I can feel those little hands still...... and now I'm gonna cry.

    Wait, before I do, let's get funny instead.
    (Prepare to be highjacked.)

    There was a point in our lives when I had killer headaches (migraines? maybe) and we searched for remedies. It was recommended that peppermint oil was VERY helpful. So we got some. And I briefed the Pentacle People.

    Next time one rolled up on me, I was prepared. Sort of. It was the blinding type, where you can't fucking see or breathe, so there I stood. Being supported by the kitchen counter, leaning so I wouldn't fall, bottle of essential oil in hand..... and I continued to just hold on to it. So. Much. Pain.

    In walks my first born, who at that point was about 12ish, and had been taller than me for eons. He gently takes the bottle from my grasp, opens it and quietly says, "turn your head towards me" as he dabs some drops of oil onto his fingertips. Then, he rubs them onto my temples.

    Just then the front door opened, and even though, from where we stood we couldn't see it, we both turned to look. HOLYSHIT AND DEARFREAKINGAWD !! The burn was so intense that my eyes teared up and so did his.

    However, it shocked the damn pain right out of my head. And now, 16 years later, we STILL joke about it, and it is STILL something I recommend, WITH GREAT CAUTION to any and all who cross my path.

    Moral: sons are wonderful. Those of us who are lucky enough to have them are truly blessed. YOU are like the lottery winner of penii.

  11. Thank-you, that was a lovely little slice of life to read.


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