The Service Industry

A week of blogging in one day:

Some days, I have the time to follow the spiritual/financial machinations of ones like Tom Cruise and "the creators of South Park." Some days, I can lay their diatribes over personal hypocrisy and religious disrespect under a glaze of Brad and Angelina returning from their frequently publicized visits to the hungry and underprivileged, and I will respond in typical American fashion: I feel all warm inside knowing I come from a country where there is freedom of expression and people still care about those less fortunate than themselves. Having thus proudly roused myself from my mental lethargy to consider all this good, I drop my vicarious altruism and sink into my own little corner of the world again.

But other days, I dive into the choppy waters of "personal service" to discover that if you have time to do this "service" and time to measure your own convictions as they present themselves in this world of giving, you have little time left to nurse vicariously on the beliefs and actions of others. (In other words, we'd have few celebrities if we were doing what we should be doing.) This last week was one of those weeks of giving. My sister had her gallbladder removed, and I went to tend her children along with my own, to help her through the days surrounding the surgery. This gave me five children to tend--all between the ages of 22 months and 10 years--in a house of maybe 1800 sq. ft. For my own entertainment, I re-read from my dad's library everything from the spiritual fasting of Arthur C. Clark to the indiscriminate spiritual gluttony that is Shirley MacLain out on her limb. (smile) But that would be for another blog. For now, I just need to regurgitate some of the week.

For starters, it had a real yin and yang feel to it. Many events were punctuated with either a "Thank God!" or a "Well, shit!" Which of the two applied in each case is pretty self-evident.

DAY 1
Early evening arrival at Grandpa's where we will all be staying so that my sister can recover from surgery peacefully in her own home.
Learn that Grandpa has contracted services of a daycare so I don't have toddler-care duties during the days, only in the evenings. (He did this because he was called for jury duty this week and won't be able to help me.) Sister is gone a while so have my first run at full child care duties.
Dish up paper plate after paper plate of supper, this while children are discovering that a whole new pecking order for this large a group must be established, and they begin negotiating immediately. The results of this first round of talks: I am left waddling around on the floor picking up corn and green beans after an uneasy accord is established for the use of three video game controllers amongst four children.
Meanwhile, the baby sits screaming, his head stuck in the armhole of his shirt.
One child comes in and says, "By the way, we were invited to Bible school this week. Can we go?"
I don't tell them my thoughts, "Can you go?? Are you kidding??" I wouldn't care if this Bible school were being held at the "Nuke the gay whales for Jesus" church, I'd probably let them go...my raw nerves will need triage every evening. I can already see that.
I'm thinking that Grandpa's house might not have been the best place to lodge. Children turn into monsters at a grandparent's house. It is the place where they expect indulgence to rule the day. "Uuuh...you didn't cut the crusts off my sandwich."
Stop the children from bouncing on the beds.
DAY 2
Case settles out of court, so no jury duty for Grandpa after all, but his other "job"--that of supervising a summer stock theater group in its final week of production for "Little Shop of Horrors"--still keeping him busy every night. My thought: appropriate musical for this week.
Farm the children out to a movie matinee.
Younger niece calls home three times as she is bored with the movie she chose and would like to eat a sandwich as she is tired of popcorn.
Sister has consultation with anesthesiologist, etc. Surgery in two days.
Sister comes home from this appt. bringing dinner from a local country-cooking restaurant.
Baby flings chicken and dumplings all over the kitchen and rubs it into his hair.
You call. I ask how your evening is going.
You say that for now you're watching Titanic but have plans to take a little swim after while.
I tell you that if you don't want me to sound bitter, you'd better tell me you're busy pulling shards of glass out of your foot or something equally enjoyable. Otherwise, I can't be held responsible if I should say things like, "Oh, yeah? Well you can go take your swim off the Titanic, Flyboy!"
You laugh--and I do hear the sympathy in your voice--and tell me that you have ditch digging plans for later.
You tell me not to do too much, but I can already see that the time for a decision in favor of self-care is long gone.
First night of Bible school a great success.
Baths all around go easier than anticipated. Children go to bed.
Stop the children from bouncing on the beds again.
Sister has gallbladder attack. Strange new pain. Chills. Dazed look. Nausea. I start formulating plan for taking whole crew to the emergency room, but Grandpa arrives home from rehearsal, and Sister falls into uneasy sleep. Emergency appears averted.
I finally go to bed.
Preschooler decides to join me a short time later. Refuses to sleep any direction except one where he has both legs slung across my chest. I'm too tired to care.
DAY 3
Three straight days of rain and humidity finally break, making outdoor play again a possibility. Grandpa has to spend the whole day at the performing arts center. Show is in two days and a water problem causes him to need to run a shop vac for 8 hours before rehearsals begin.
Take the big children to the pool. Younger niece calls me once to beg me to bring her a sandwich, then gets a cohort to call when her own call proves unproductive. Then, Older niece (the just barely 10-year-old) calls to say she's been invited to go to a wedding with a friend tomorrow. It's in Kentucky, and they'll ride there in a limo. Can she go? I say, "No. Tomorrow is your mommy's surgery. We don't need to make out-of-state plans with one of your pool friends whom Aunt Debbie doesn't even know." Response: "Well, then can I just go to the movies with her?"
Everyone arrives for dinner. Sister, however, went to her own home to spend the night so that she is fresh and close to the hospital for surgery, so again...they're all mine.
Younger niece needs ketchup before she'll eat meatloaf and wants three servings of mashed potatoes. Older niece is nearly vegetarian and won't touch meat loaf.
Stop the children from bouncing on the beds again. Think to myself, how is it no one realized we have that thorny problem of perpetual motion solved, and it is right under our noses. All you need is a preschooler and a mattress.
Baby's allergies kick in with a vengeance.
Time for Bible school...racing around looking for shoes and at least one clean shirt left.
Baby drops big sister's electric guitar on the floor.
A couple of hours with just baby. Still doing life to the theme of repetitive motion, I hang up a dish-towel, and Baby pulls it off the rack and drops it on the floor, laughing. We do this 25 times if we do it once.
Finally, after Bible school and clean-up, children are in bed.
I go to check on them and discover they have all decided to sleep on the same mattress on the floor, even though there are two other perfectly good beds ready and waiting for them. The oldest is still awake and looks up at me with something akin to desperation as he is clinging to the side of the mattress, trying not to fall off. I use gesture language--God help me not to wake the sleeping ones--to instruct him to move to the empty bed. He complies without any gesture complaint. On a bathroom trip later in the night, I see they have moved again. Two are now in the bed, one still on the mattress and one has now rolled off on the floor.
Dream of my dead mother holding Younger niece on her lap in the little rural church where they're having Bible school. Reminds me of her mannerisms that are remote enough now to have become forgotten until the dream refreshed them.

DAY 4
Yet another day where Grandpa brings home doughnuts for an easy breakfast. Shove two doughnuts and a paper towel in each child's hands and be done with it. Besides, they are the best grocery-store-bakery doughnuts I've ever tasted. The town is known for these doughnuts.
Waiting for the library to open...the children's "activity" for the day...hunting shoes yet again...can't find the preschooler's shoes for the longest time because the baby is wearing them...and what is that the baby just dug out from under the couch and put in his mouth?
Younger niece wants to sit and chat with me. I feel guilty because when I ask her to give me a few moments to myself, she responds, "But I just wanted to visit with you." I learned that one day recently she (an 8-year-old) went about 6 blocks down the street, just to pay a social call on one of her mother's grown friends. She is wired to be socially interactive.
So, I spend time discussing body parts with the baby, the omnipresence of God with Younger niece, the tragedy of being low-man on the pecking order with the Preschooler and comprehensive altruistic sharing with The Eldest (the only one who brought an X-box to Grandpa's.)
Step on the cat.
Stop Younger niece from helping the baby take a dive off the back of the couch.
Hear from Sister's Husband...she came through surgery just fine.
Counting the hours until Bible school.
Receiving unexpected hugs from nieces; unexpected compliance from my sons.
Baby discovers with a chuckle that his feet have toes, just like mine do.
Last night of Bible school and almost miss it, as the children have been running all over town trying to recruit the most guests and thereby win the recruiter prize. Riding bikes half-way across town in heat and humidity causes Neighbor Friend--who has also been attending Bible School all week--to have an asthma attack in the middle of their trek.
Peal into the parking lot just in time...but when the "Last Night" is over kids want to stay late. A mom working Bible school offers to bring them home. Says that Younger niece had salvation experience that night during altar call time. (Dream makes sense now.) She comes home and smears Grandpa's shaving cream all over the bathroom during clean-up time. Making sure those sins are washed away, I guess. (grin)


DAY 5
Waking up early to something blackened and tender...not the residue of a dream about going out for a steak dinner with you, but rather setting foot on the remains of a banana dropped and forgotten beside the couch where I sleep.
Sister is able to communicate better on the phone today. Tells me she loves me.
Grandpa plans to take the three oldest children to see Opening Night.
Children dig large hole in Grandpa's back yard, then go to the pool.
Day runs suspiciously smoothly. Even near-vegetarian niece eats the fish sticks I made for dinner.
Then disaster: Oldest One left his only pair of sandals at the pool which is now closed for the night. Good news is, he is large enough to wear my flip flops. And in this town, showing up for Opening Night of a Summer Stock Theater Production in shorts and flip flops--and being presented there by a barefoot mom dragging along a diaper-clad toddler--this event doesn't turn a single head in judgment. Not here.
Take Baby home, wipe Baby off, lay him down with a bottle. Hear him mumble, "Nite, Nite, Mommy," (His only vocabulary for female care-giver, and so my name to him all week.)
Kids love the show! But still fight over sleeping arrangements.
Tomorrow: going home.

1/2 DAY
Grandpa makes the comment, "Well, you can't say you've done a thankless job this week, because I've been saying 'Thank you, thank you, thank you...' all week."

Headed for home. Transition between Rural World and Midwestern City World is marked with a stop at a convenience store in the Twilight Zone that falls in between the two. I go in and find that along with straight strong coffee, Steamers are now available. Where I've spent the last week, many convenience store workers would have scratched their heads if I'd asked for a steamer, scratched their heads and begun to talk about a cousin's boyfriend who worked on a barge on the River (the Mississippi.) I'd hear all about this boyfriend and cousin and other friends' friends...with my request for a hot drink now lodged in the remote past of conversation. Randomness isn't so random down here; what seems random is rather evidence that a lot of things are simply assumed, as people know each other so well and so long that things like conversational transitions are unnecessary and downright inefficient. My sister confirmed these musings I was having as I drove along--my children deep in travel sleep--when she called my cell phone to say, "Hey, we just had a crack appear in the ceiling and water is dripping everywhere. And I made fried green tomatoes tonight and none of my family would eat them with me...except Poote (the baby.)" Hardly a beat between the two thoughts. Yes, I decided for whatever reason things like transitions and subordinate clauses, these didn't make it into the vocabulary of my land of origin. Thank goodness I can slip back into the old lingo without too much difficulty.

And as for embracing the dualism of it...especially given this lack of transition...well, I think even I--the staunch mystic Christian--might have made Shirley MacLain take notice.