extra hands

It's THAT time of year again. The time when your kids start school...i.e. bring home every germ their little hands can gather. As soon as I realized that J had gotten a hold of something that had him hacking like a 73 year old with a smoking habit just as old, my throat started feeling like I had juggled a handful of thorns and did the neck tilt, throw back, and swallow hard. So, our Saturday picnic with friends was cancelled. We both had to be nursed and QUICK b/c I can't afford to take anymore time off during the next 2 months. I grabbed my black bandana and hit up the local Wal.greens for every sort of relief that they offered in the Ny.quil form. I just KNEW that we'd spend Saturday in our respective corners, drifting in and out of drug-induced comas. I should have known that much like the picnic, things don't always go as planned.

We've been here for almost 4 months now and my Ur.ban Ha.ng Su.ite (my loft and bedroom on the second floor) was still boxed up creating a maze to my computer. Since I had recently gotten the correct pieces to this new computer desk that I had ordered 6 WEEKS AGO, I decided that I should organize my office. Once I broke out my tools, a bell went off and J immediately followed me to see what the hap was.

"Mommy, can I help?"

"Sure."

I was trying to think of what this child could do that wouldn't create double work for me. Bless his heart for wanting to jump in the game, but his little extra hands could only do so much. But I also understand that if I can get him to love chores at this age, I'm golden for the rest of my life. I had become pretty consumed with the glass pieces to my desk...counting rods, screws, washers, and bolts. I sized up each tool as if it were the first time that I'd use them. I've always liked building things as a little girl and, to this day, I still do even if it is not of my design.

"Mommy, can I open this box for you?" broke my concentration as I was giving a screw da bidness.

I look up to see him standing next to a box, almost as tall as he is, with the word "PERISHABLE" written in big red letters on its side. I smiled b/c my dad shipped this box from the N.O. almost a year ago. He had packed up the salvageable items from my house before he had it gutted. These were items that I had missed during my search...well, at the time that old dude and I broke into my former home, we could hardly endure any more of the stench that lingered from the mold and sludge, compliments of Ka.trina. We got what I thought were my most valuable treasures and bounced. I figured that whatever my dad retrieved was probably junk b/c he couldn't have known what I considered important enough to clean and keep. This was my house...and at a time, my mom and I's house...his family and concerns were located down the main street. But anyway, this box has been sitting untampered for almost a year. Even when J and I moved to our new house, I told the bruhs to just put it anywhere...it would be a while before its contents would see the light of day.

"Mommy, can I?"

"OK, but if it has styrofoam in it, please do not get it everywhere."

This was a worthy chore indeed. He'd not only become intrigued by the styrofoam but the bubble wrap was going to send him into a child's euphoria, lol.

"Mommy, look!"

That break didn't last long. I was more interested in my new desk than some old whatchamacallit that he had discovered. J had gotten the scissors and was anxiously slicing away at tape, bubble wrap, and anything that stood between him and his newfound treasures.

He held up a picture of my mom.

Somehow she had managed to stuff her huge breasts into this black and gold sequined gown, ready to show stop at the Zu.lu ball that night. She looked so pretty...and proud of her mile-long cleavage. I didn't particularly care for the man that was going to escort her to the ball, but I wanted her to have a good time nonetheless. I don't think that she really cared that much about the man either, b/c she just wanted to be seen. After 3 tummy suck-ins, I was finally able to zip up her gown. Which was right on time, b/c my next trick involved heavy-duty tape, lol. She floated out of the house and I was left to vacuum the trail of sequins that she had left behind. Before I knew it, this smile had crept up on me.

"See, mommy?"

While lost in my thoughts, J had managed to free another picture of me the night of my prom. I wore white...and it was appropriate. I looked so happy back then...senior year was coming to an end and I had a promising future to look forward to. My mom had me pose all around that house, back when we lacked the convenience of digital cameras.

Not very many minutes passed before I fought my ability to resist and started digging, spilling styrofoam onto the floor from both sides. Swimming through the material were my ballet, tap, and gymnastics trophies...all individually wrapped. These activities were my momma's way of counteracting my dad's attempt at turning me into his son. I pulled the plastic just enough to touch my name, etched in black letters, on a plaque that I had long forgotten about. I soon spotted my diploma and my green high school graduation cap. How did I miss these things? I probably didn't. Most likely, I saw them and thought nothing of them. But for some reason, 2 years later, they were my world.

I palmed a deflated football, signed by the entire TU team the year that they went to the Li.berty Bowl. I remember my mom calling me and telling me that she was on campus for some football-related function with a football in hand for her favorite players to sign. She always went with me to the home games...laughing, jumping, and cat calling the fine-r players on the team. Yeah, she created a scene but she only knew how to be the center of attention...anything else was uncivilized, lol.

"What's this, mommy?"

J held up a sealed, paper money pouch from the local N.O. bank. It jingled like change, but there was NO WAY that my dad would take the time to pack up something that doesn't fold like some hidden crisp bills. I grabbed the scissors, cut off the seal, and dumped the contents onto the carpet. Jackpot! Monogrammed rings and gold nameplates, diamond clusters and her precious peridots, tennis bracelets and chains...although not considered the "bling" of today, the mass glistened just as bright. My mom couldn't stand to have naked fingers. Me? I could do without. Some of the rings were still disfigured from when she was in a severe car accident during my sophomore year in high school. She always claimed that she never got around to fixing them...I started to believe that they served to remind her of God's grace. Everyone said that there was no way that she should've been able to walk out of that alive...let alone, walk.

I remember telling her, shortly after, that if she had died, I had no reason to live.

"If I die, YOU have EVERY reason to live," she corrected.

I found myself getting a little teared up as I stared at these items...FAR from being "PERISHABLE." So much has happened since she's been gone. I remember her looking forward to grandkids one day, but she never got a chance to meet my J. I sometimes wonder what she thinks of the woman that I have become, but wonder if I'd made too many mistakes that kept me from being the woman that she wanted me to be.

"Mommy, I saw a picture of you and your mom when you were grad-ju-way-teen. See? That's you and this is her."

"It sure is, J."

"Yeah...I KNOW that she's very proud of you too, mommy."

Whoa. I was officially choked up. I looked towards the heavens...more like my ceiling fan...as if I could find where he pulled that statement from. Nothing. Be that as it may, this was certainly a nice detour from what I thought would be a boring sick day. Bless his heart for wanting to jump in the game, b/c his little extra hands did so much.