From the moment his feet hit the bottom step of our staircase, he starts asking, “mommy you making waffles?” If I say yes he knows it’s Wednesday, the day we eat waffles for breakfast and his Grammy comes in the afternoon to play with him.
Since Beckett was born in 2011, my MIL comes over every Wednesday night to eat dinner with the kids so I can have a couple hours to run errands or write or go to yoga. Now that Ben is home in the evenings, we try to grab dinner together at least once a month. It’s a lovely treat during this season of our lives, but back when it all started, it was a life-line. My sanity lived for the couple of hours of reprieve each week, a short break from the four walls of our tiny New London apartment. I am grateful that my MIL still comes faithfully each week, it’s been two years since we’ve had a reason for needing a little respite care.
My kids have loved the middle of the week for ages now, they know they will get frozen yogurt and a movie. Grammy will build block towers and play make believe. Chicken nuggets are usually on the dinner menu.
Tonight was no different, Grammy walked through the door around 3:30. Ben and I left for an impromptu dinner around 6. Jules made a special request to go to Target, she wanted to pick out something for my birthday. I was barricaded from her room once we returned home, she has some sort of art project happening in her room that will eventually become my birthday present.
So the two of them piled onto Wilbur’s bottom bunk. The walls of his room were once light pink, Jules thought it was the perfect color for a girls’ room. We have all slept in that room at some point, slapping new paint on the walls, or hanging new curtains. But I will always consider that the “girls room.” Wilbur’s bunk bed sinks into the same indents in the carpet where Clementine’s bed used to be.
Wilbur will only know Julia, and as he sat in her lap tonight he touched her freshly painted toenails. He kept checking his own feet to see if he too had bright blue splattered onto his feet. It’s strange to think that he is the age Julia was when Beckett was born. But he won’t know any of these details for a long while. Right now, all he knows it that his Grammy comes on Wednesdays, the same day we eat waffles.
There is comfort in the steadiness of routine, we’ve held onto this minute piece of our schedule, our “old life.” Wilbur’s room is painted the lightest blue except for one tiny spot where just a bit of pink peeks through.