in solitude, little girls

Malin quickly picks up on what makes the people in her life happy. Last night, all 4 of our children went with Roger in the church van  when he left early to go pick up kids. Before Malin climbed in, she hollered up the hill at me like she was giving me a gift, “Mom, now you get to be all alone!”

And now, once again, here I sit alone at home, happily printing title pictures onto promotional DVDs while my husband is off on a date.

I helped his little date get ready for her time with him. I exchanged her shirt for a cute one that wasn’t smeared with brownie batter, and braided her hair with most of her curls hanging long and free at the ends. And they’re off to run errands and eat at McDonald’s. (Unless he persuades her that she really wants something else.)

About two weeks ago, Roger took Avery into town with him so I could finish up some baking with no interruptions. When we first asked if she wanted to go, she wanted to stay with her mommy. Then when I changed my wording and asked if she wanted to go on a date with daddy, her outlook changed completely and she couldn’t wait to go. She had a nice time with him and they even stopped at “the place with decorations” (her words) – a farm down the road that gets all dressed up for autumn and gives tours and hayrides and sells fall produce.

Then last Tuesday, Roger took me out for my birthday. A day or two later, Avery was lounging on my bed, chatting with me while I put away laundry. She asked me, “What did you and Daddy do on your date?” I started off, “We went out to eat…” but didn’t get any further. Her smile completely faded, she dropped her little head down and started to cry. “Mine wasn’t like a date! We didn’t go out to eat!!” (This wasn’t a spoiled brat cry; it was a tired and extremely disappointed little girl who had been duped into running errands with her daddy under the guise of it being a “date.”) It almost broke my heart.

I carried her off to bed, promising her that sometime after we got back from Oklahoma, her daddy would  have some errands to run in Jackson and this time, she could go along with him and he could take her out to lunch for a real date.

This morning, I asked her if this was the day she was going on a date with her daddy. I said, “Do you want to go in the study and ask him?” She just shook her head, then said with a smile and a 4-year-old’s confidence, “He’ll tell me.”

So they’re off enjoying french fries and the play place, and I’m making my way through a slab of cold meatloaf and telling myself that it probably is time to go to that website and pick out my microwave so Roger can call up Jackson Electric and order it. The only thing is….. was it whirlpool? Or am I going to waste my time browsing through the wrong website? One of the most frustrating things in my life is wasting time on the internet. (You don’t understand this feeling if you only use high-speed.)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Just as an inconsequential point of interest…. did you know that Presbyterians is an anagram of Britney Spears? Rearrange the letters yourself – it’s true. I know because I learned it from David Crowder.

Advertisements

About ruthie.voth

Wife of one, mother of four, friend of many. Lover of details, color, good conversations, finding balance, and being honest. Passionate lover of a well-crafted sentence - even more so if it's witty. Weird blend of cynical optimist. I'm the worst kind of woman. I'm high maintenance, but I think I'm low maintenance. Somehow, people still love me. Must be grace.
This entry was posted in vothlings and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to in solitude, little girls

  1. Jeremy Sheffel says:

    I love it when you talk about talking to your kids, because you just talk to them like I would talk to Byron or somebody. I think that’s really neat. I hope when I have kids we do that.

    Like

your thoughts here:

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s