Well, they went and did it again. My parents left Caitlin and me home alone for a week. Whenever I come home and supply them with a babysitter, they pick up and leave on some vacation. Jolly good... So, once again, I am mom.
It's only been a couple days, and things are going well. Caitlin has been getting her homework done, I've kept myself busy, and we haven't had to eat Maccachillicheezaroni yet. Last night we exercised--I danced in front of our big tv screen until the bandanna holding my hair back was drenched with sweat, and Caitlin ran on the elliptical for 30 minutes, and by that time, her whole face and body and t-shirt was drenched worse than me (just sayin'). Then we both showered. Not together. Then we read our books. Caitlin had to read "The Lord of the Flies" for her English class, and I was reading the book "Star Girl." At about 11:30 we got tired and went to bed.
This morning I woke up at 7:30 and fixed breakfast for Caitlin. We ate egg-avacado-sausage toasted sandwiches. It was very satisfying; Caitlin even thought so. Then she hustled off to school and I was alone. I finished "Star Girl," wrote in my journal, wrote a letter to my roommate, and played my guitar. One hour had gone by. I did the dishes, wiped off the counters, looked at my phone several times, and checked my Facebook. Another fifteen minutes had passed. I dusted all the surfaces in the dining room, rearranged all the ceramic dinky-dinks, individually polished each leaf on the artificial plant decor, and wiped down the wooden bureau and all the framed photos that sat on it. I opened up Grooveshark on my mom's computer and selected my longest playlist. Great music filled the air; one by one, I removed the chairs from the dining room for more intensive cleaning.
Glancing out the window, I could see the backyard and the bird feeder, where several different kinds of birds flitted and swooped and picked and scratched. I gazed, mesmerized. I marveled at their swift little bodies, sleek feathers, grace, and agility. Diving. Swiveling. Cavorting to and fro. The scene before me laced its fingers with time and melted into slow motion. I could make out all the details in their feet and feathers--every freckle, speckle, and spot. Everything was in place and perfectly balanced. As if caught up in a trance, I slowly moved closer to the window until my nose hovered dangerously close to the glass, threatening to leave a grease-mark. The birds. I watched the birds in their carefree world of song and birdseed.
One glistening Grackle lit onto the base of the feeder, using his long pointed beak to grab the seeds. Below the feeder, on the grass, amid the litter of sunflower seed husks, a female House Finch hopped about revolving her head up and around and minding her own business. She quickly glanced up at the feeder above her. In a split second, she spread her wings and lifted upward, landing right next to the Grackle.
Before I could blink, that dirty Grackle monster snagged the House Finch by the head and dragged her down to the ground. She wriggled and writhed, and helplessly flopped her wings, but, the evil Grackle, he pecked her brains out. Within seconds she was gone. The Grackle staggered back a few four-toed steps, cocked his head, paranoid, glancing in all directions, then he flew away. All the birds were gone by then.
I stood at the window, greasy face smashed completely against the glass, eyes wide and riveted on the disturbing scene. "Whoa..." I managed to say. For a while, I watched the brown speckled bird body lying on the grass, as still as a stone, waiting for it to hop up, shake its feathers, and fly away. It never did.
Hmm... I turned around, glanced at the clock, and headed for the broom closet. I swept the kitchen floor, then scrubbed the entire thing by hand with a small green scrubby. While I was down on the floor, I noticed the baseboards could also use a good cleaning. I ended up washing all the walls, and the cabinets, and the drawers, and the stove. Then I vacuumed the living room and wiped the bathroom mirrors.
A few hours had gone by.
I sat down, exhausted.
Then I went outside, grabbed a shovel, dug a hole by a tree, and buried the House Finch.
Caitlin came home. We made oatmeal-raspberry pancakes with banana/peanut butter for dinner. After dinner was put away and the dishes were done, I read "The Lord of the Flies" out loud to her on my bed. I tried to make it as exciting as I could, but she still kept falling asleep. So I kept waking her up. We ate some chocolate; that helped to keep her awake. We finished the book.
I successfully kept Caitlin from taking a nap. Hazzah!
I made a sign for her that reads, "Thou shalt not nap," and I hung it on the fridge. she covered it with a sign of her own, "Thou shalt nap with all thine heart."
She finished some more homework and went to bed at 11:00.
It has been quite the day.
Good night.
It's only been a couple days, and things are going well. Caitlin has been getting her homework done, I've kept myself busy, and we haven't had to eat Maccachillicheezaroni yet. Last night we exercised--I danced in front of our big tv screen until the bandanna holding my hair back was drenched with sweat, and Caitlin ran on the elliptical for 30 minutes, and by that time, her whole face and body and t-shirt was drenched worse than me (just sayin'). Then we both showered. Not together. Then we read our books. Caitlin had to read "The Lord of the Flies" for her English class, and I was reading the book "Star Girl." At about 11:30 we got tired and went to bed.
This morning I woke up at 7:30 and fixed breakfast for Caitlin. We ate egg-avacado-sausage toasted sandwiches. It was very satisfying; Caitlin even thought so. Then she hustled off to school and I was alone. I finished "Star Girl," wrote in my journal, wrote a letter to my roommate, and played my guitar. One hour had gone by. I did the dishes, wiped off the counters, looked at my phone several times, and checked my Facebook. Another fifteen minutes had passed. I dusted all the surfaces in the dining room, rearranged all the ceramic dinky-dinks, individually polished each leaf on the artificial plant decor, and wiped down the wooden bureau and all the framed photos that sat on it. I opened up Grooveshark on my mom's computer and selected my longest playlist. Great music filled the air; one by one, I removed the chairs from the dining room for more intensive cleaning.
Glancing out the window, I could see the backyard and the bird feeder, where several different kinds of birds flitted and swooped and picked and scratched. I gazed, mesmerized. I marveled at their swift little bodies, sleek feathers, grace, and agility. Diving. Swiveling. Cavorting to and fro. The scene before me laced its fingers with time and melted into slow motion. I could make out all the details in their feet and feathers--every freckle, speckle, and spot. Everything was in place and perfectly balanced. As if caught up in a trance, I slowly moved closer to the window until my nose hovered dangerously close to the glass, threatening to leave a grease-mark. The birds. I watched the birds in their carefree world of song and birdseed.
One glistening Grackle lit onto the base of the feeder, using his long pointed beak to grab the seeds. Below the feeder, on the grass, amid the litter of sunflower seed husks, a female House Finch hopped about revolving her head up and around and minding her own business. She quickly glanced up at the feeder above her. In a split second, she spread her wings and lifted upward, landing right next to the Grackle.
Before I could blink, that dirty Grackle monster snagged the House Finch by the head and dragged her down to the ground. She wriggled and writhed, and helplessly flopped her wings, but, the evil Grackle, he pecked her brains out. Within seconds she was gone. The Grackle staggered back a few four-toed steps, cocked his head, paranoid, glancing in all directions, then he flew away. All the birds were gone by then.
I stood at the window, greasy face smashed completely against the glass, eyes wide and riveted on the disturbing scene. "Whoa..." I managed to say. For a while, I watched the brown speckled bird body lying on the grass, as still as a stone, waiting for it to hop up, shake its feathers, and fly away. It never did.
Hmm... I turned around, glanced at the clock, and headed for the broom closet. I swept the kitchen floor, then scrubbed the entire thing by hand with a small green scrubby. While I was down on the floor, I noticed the baseboards could also use a good cleaning. I ended up washing all the walls, and the cabinets, and the drawers, and the stove. Then I vacuumed the living room and wiped the bathroom mirrors.
A few hours had gone by.
I sat down, exhausted.
Then I went outside, grabbed a shovel, dug a hole by a tree, and buried the House Finch.
Caitlin came home. We made oatmeal-raspberry pancakes with banana/peanut butter for dinner. After dinner was put away and the dishes were done, I read "The Lord of the Flies" out loud to her on my bed. I tried to make it as exciting as I could, but she still kept falling asleep. So I kept waking her up. We ate some chocolate; that helped to keep her awake. We finished the book.
I successfully kept Caitlin from taking a nap. Hazzah!
I made a sign for her that reads, "Thou shalt not nap," and I hung it on the fridge. she covered it with a sign of her own, "Thou shalt nap with all thine heart."
She finished some more homework and went to bed at 11:00.
It has been quite the day.
Good night.
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