Vegetables

When I was younger, about 11, I used to watch AJ and CJ for my mom during the day. She would leave to run errands and I would watch the boys over dinnertime. I used my limited knowledge of the kitchen to prepare Macaroni and Cheese or Spaghettios. Sometimes Mom would make dinner ahead of time, and leave it on the stove for me to serve for them. I remember we had these brightly colored plates with separate sections for food. Two smaller sections, for the dessert and veggies, and one large one for their main entree. Because AJ is the older of the two I used to ban together with him in an effort to get CJ to eat his peas. Two heads were better than one. One day I thought of this brilliant plan: I would call my house (to make the phone ring) and hang up quickly. Then I'd have CJ answer the phone thinking someone was on the line. Because he was 4 he ignored the dial tone he heard upon pressing, "talk". I would sit upstairs on the other phone and pretend I was Hercules. When he was younger he epitomized Disney's Hercules and insisted on having muscles just like his. I, as Hercules, would urge CJ to eat his veggies, and like any good protege would, CJ ate the veggies.

This worked for a while. Each time I would be someone different-depending on the season. Sometimes I was Santa Claus, sometimes the Easter Bunny, sometimes I would even imitate my mom. Eventually CJ began to test the validity of these characters, "No, you're not Hercules" etc. It became harder and harder to execute my brilliant plan.

One evening AJ, my partner in crime, was being particularly ornery. I pleaded with him to eat his vegetables... promising the world on a silver platter if he'd oblige. He refused. Still I asked him to assist me in our phone call ritual. If I could get CJ to down his dinner, all would not be lost. AJ conceded and fulfilled his normal role downstairs while I pretended upstairs. I defaulted back to the almighty Hercules after CJ denounced Santa Claus. AJ, still angry at me for forcing the greens on him betrayed me. I could hear his little voice in the background, "it's not really Hercules, CJ.. it's Katie." I should have known... working with a 6 year old.

There's a saltwater film, on the jar of your ashes. [longest blog of my life]

I woke up yesterday morning to find my mother on the couch crying into a sweatshirt of mine, sobbing something about me going away to college. I sit next to her and quickly realize that there's nothing good about the situation and therefore nothing I can say except, "It's going to be OK" which I know isn't comforting. She just sits there and cries at 10am and I've got everywhere in the world to be but I can't just leave her. Soon enough I tell her to take a breath then take a shower and get ready, it'd make her feel better.

Mom and I are making a collage of pictures of my life for my graduation party tonight. We were looking through an album I got from my dads house, and she remarked that there were lots of pictures of him and I then proceeded to ask if there were pictures of her and I like that, of us doing things together as a child. There aren't, so I said "No". She looked sad, and then said, "Now I see why you cried so much coming home from visiting your dad. You two did things together,huh? You hung out? I don't have memories like that." Yes, my dad is a very good dad. Always has been, at least in my eyes. I lived away from him most of my life and would come to visit in the summer months, and that time was typically all about me. So when I reach back into my childhood and pull out some memories I pull out ones of dad and I in a rowboat in some little pond, him threatening to throw me in. I pull out memories of us eating pounds of Oreos and watching Mrs. Doubtfire. Going to movies and having intense conversations afterwards about what the movie "really meant". Mostly I remember that when I did spend time with my dad, and when we did talk together I felt like all he cared about in that moment was me, and what I had to say. There weren't other things floating around in his mind that seemed more important. I liked that undivided attention. I never got that from my mom, who was always concerned with herself. She's gotten better in recent years but here I am ready to go off to college. So what was I to say when she said, "I wish I had memories like that with you. Now I'll never get that back" ? All I could tell her was that she still had right now...

I love my mother. More than I could ever say to you in words. I know that we all make mistakes. She's grown up a lot in the past four years. Her priorities are in better places now.

I feel bad for her. If she had just opened her eyes, she would have seen a long time ago that the photoalbums were mostly filled with pictures of me and dad. She never cared to look. Or she never thought to look. Even worse.