Little Luxuries and Big Messes

Last month, Todd and a friend traveled to Texas for the Austin City Limits music festival.  A trip like this is a rare indulgence for him, but it makes sense that he would choose to treat himself with four days of concerts and deluxe, authentic barbecue.  It's pretty simple, actually: Todd loves music.  We still have boxes of tapes and CDs downstairs, and he still has a weighty collection of vinyl in the basement that he listens to when he's down there stretching or doing series of push-ups and sit-ups after a bike ride.  And he doesn't care about presents on his birthday or holidays; he doesn't browse through stores or catalogs and covet gadgets or clothes or tools.  He never rewards himself with a seasonal latte or a home decor update.  So while to some, it may have seemed like he owed me or something, it was really a trip that he deserved.  And I am a control monster who is, first, convinced that my family and home would spin into disarray if I left for five carefree days, and second, a mom who would feel guilty about doing that.  But really, because I do treat myself, albeit to infrequent lattes, Target clearance decor, and Old Navy tank tops (usually with coupons and rewards certificates), those little luxuries of mine add up, and I've probably flown to Austin and back at least three times in the past five years.

Before Todd left, he stirred up ten sippy cups of chocolate milk so that the girls could continue their morning tradition of starting their day with milk that Daddy made, because: "Noooooooo!  I don't want Mommy to make it.  Daddy's chocolate milk.  He makes it the best!"

And: surprise.  I went a little deeper with a home decor (frugal) indulgence by visiting Ikea with the girls while he was away and purchasing some very basic, very tidy furniture for what we call the office.  It's a small room upstairs across from the girls' bedroom, and I've always envisioned it as a quiet playroom, a sort of library or sitting room that's part of Marley's and Rudy's suite.  But it wasn't getting a lot of use, which was a ridiculous shame because it's not like we've got a lot of room to spare in our cozy cape.  And this fall, I started slowly by moving a cabinet downstairs.  Then I started thinking about an actual, spacious desk up there: for Marley's homework, Todd's late nights of administrative work and email catch-up, and my spare moments Taking Care of Business, too.  To clear even more space, I planned on donating our (let's face it) toddler-sized play table and chairs to the girls' dancing school for one of their waiting rooms.  So at Ikea, I bought a desk, a narrow cabinet, and two fun plastic swivel chairs, and put them all together secretly while Todd was away.  Bean and Toot were under strict orders to keep the plan a surprise, which they loved, and I really, truly, love putting furniture like that together.  I feel like a handy lady and a puzzle master all at once.  And when I was done, the room was more open, more tidy, and much better suited for a first grader, her little sister, and adults who wanted a spot to get some quick, quiet work done.  

And then soon after, Liz came over for lunch with her boys Sam and Ben.  They ran right upstairs with their pal Rudy, and while I made cheese quesadillas, Liz and I talked without children at our knees for, oh, I don't know, seven or eight mostly relaxed minutes.  We heard a rumpus upstairs, but unwisely chose to ignore it, placing far too much trust in our three rascals who were in fact dumping out two bookcases worth of books over the recently cleared office floor.  The five of us went back up after lunch, made piles to sort through, and I ended up getting some additional reorganization and cleaning done in the end.

But, I mean, really. 

Liz said it would be like two two of us gleefully dumping out my spice rack and then stomping around in the fragrant grains and powder, delighted by our own mischievousness and ability to live fully in the moment.