“You really wore that?!” Kiki reached out her hands to take the crumpled dress I had just pulled from the box. It unfolded to reveal a prairie style dress with a rose pattern print, puffed sleeves, and a full skirt.
“Yes, It was my graduation dress.” I look at it and see what she sees. The dress is woefully out of fashion. I look at it myself and wonder why I ever wore it. But I remember selecting it. I remember loving it. And I remember getting compliments on it. I can still see the beauty even while I also see the flaws. It is a bit like being cross-eyed.
“Okaaay.” Kiki says amused as she puts the dress down using only the tips of her fingers. Obviously this is not the outfit she is going to choose to wear for “blast to the past” day at school, which is why I dug out the box in the first place.
Kiki’s hands dive back into the box, pulling out the two formal dresses I saved. They fared better. Kiki oohed and held them up to herself to twirl the skirts. It is possible that she will choose to wear one of them sometime when she has a formal dance to attend. But they are also set aside. They are not obviously from another era and thus not suitable as blast to the past choices.
In the bottom of the box was my wedding dress. Kiki pulled it out almost reverently. She held it up, admiring the long whiteness of it. Then carefully folded it back into the box.
Her blast to the past ensemble ended up being a baggy white turtleneck of Howard’s with a wide belt I’d fished out of the back of my drawer. An old sweater was sacrificed to make a pair of leg warmers. She topped it all with a big floofy red bow on her pony tail. It didn’t really look like an 80’s outfit, but she felt like she was wearing an 80’s outfit. That was good enough.
******
“I know why moms are more understanding than Dads.” Gleek announced as she leaned on the kitchen counter. Her eyes were still a little red from crying. Patch sat next to her, also a little red-eyed. They had just weathered the incident of the domino set which had ended with both squabbling children being set to their rooms by Howard. Calm had returned and they were ready to discuss the experience.
“Why is that?” I asked as I carefully scraped a blob of cookie dough onto the baking stone.
“It’s because moms have the babies.”
“Maybe.” I answered. “Dads can be understanding too. I just think your dad didn’t know the deal we made about counting.”
Gleek’s eyebrows lowered. “He shouldn’t have counted. I was going to do it.” Gleek does not like when grown ups count down after giving an instruction. Recently she and I struck a bargain that I would only use counting when my request is truly important or urgent. In return, she promised to respond immediately if I began to count. The deal was struck without Howard near by.
I choose my next words carefully because I am glad that the yelling, stomping, and door slamming are over. I’d really like to keep the peace that still seems fragile. “Perhaps next time you and Patch could talk things through instead of yelling and knocking over each other’s dominoes. Then Dad wouldn’t have to come out of his office and ask you to stop.”
Both Gleek and Patch hunch up a little. This is the only acknowledgment they will make that they know I am right. After a moment’s silence, Gleek says
“Dad’s can be understanding, but mostly they are awesome.”
Patch nodded sagely in agreement. “Yeah. Dads are awesome.”
I have to agree.
******
Patch climbed into my lap and tucked his head against my neck. I swivled my chair away from the computer so that I could give my full attention to this small person. His head was a little too warm against my neck. Likely a light fever as part of the sniffle-and-cough package that he acquired last night. I suppose it should not surprise me that my first grader was the first child to stay home from school sick. At least the barking, croupy cough had subsided. Now he was just bored and in need of mild comforting with all the playmates off at school. So we sat and I listened to him talk to me about his plans for the day. He was excited to have a whole six hours of playing time. I held him, glad that life has been more child focused lately. I have time to sit and hold my boy until he is ready to go do something else. It is so much better than constantly shooing him off to go find something else to do because I need to work. The snuggle did not last all that long. The minute we heard Howard’s shower turn off, Patch jumped from my lap to go make a request from Dad. I need to remember to treasure these small moments. They are over too soon.