It's been a surreal day. I will write about it here, but if you find this entry gone in a day or so, you'll know I've removed it because I thought better of it.
I've spent the day as surrogate mom and wife for a friend and her daughter. Husband/Dad is in the hospital overnight for observation after a reaction to medication.
As the little girl (Sammy) and I drove in my friend's car to the grocery store, I was struck by how much everyday stuff I needed to learn about my friend and her family. How to work the DVD player in their car. Overwhelming fear of accidentally locking the keys in the car with 4-yr-old daughter inside, as the temp rose to nearly 90 degrees.
Entering the grocery store, Sammy and I launched into negotiations concerning cookies. We were there to pick up a ham and some celery, but considering the trauma this little girl had undergone earlier in the day, as Dad was seizing in the hospital and she was whisked away, I decided cookies were definitely in order. An everyday conversation I could have had with my own children, but was having with someone else's just as easily. A basic mom-skill, I guess.
Cookies chosen, we drove our cart through the deli. She pointed out the free cookies that were available at the counter there. "She can have one," the deli worker said. "She knows." I explained that I was babysitting that day. (slightly concerned that someone might wonder why I had a child I didn't know much about with me. on a holiday. obviously not a typical daycare day)
As we were standing in line at the register, I realized that the ham was on special and I didn't have customer loyalty card for that particular store. "Hey! I do!" I told Sammy. There it was on my friend's keyring. I had stepped right into her role as the family consumer.
We went out to the parking lot and I told Sammy to get into her seat and buckle up. Immediately I began to worry about leaving her there while I returned the cart. It's been many years since I've had a kid that age. What do you do? Take the kid to the cart return and walk her back to the car? Leave her in the car while you return the cart? Why didn't I park closer to it? What did I do so long ago?
The rest of the afternoon passed fairly uneventfully. Sammy and I made potato salad. She took a nice, long, 2-hour nap. I laid down, but really ended up fielding calls from other friends. We picked up my friend from the hospital and had a nice supper.
They are visiting Dad in the hospital now. To calm Sammy's fears. I took a shower and am hanging around in my pyjamas. In someone else's house. Typing on someone else's computer.
I feel like a visitor, but not really. I'm very comfortable here. It is a little odd to take a shower in your friend's master bath, padding through her bedroom where she and her husband sleep. She insisted I use her bath, as the main one is full of toddler decals and is not as clean as she would like right now. Using the squeegee to get the water off the glass of her shower (they need a wider squeegee. Mensa Boy would never stand for one that small. But then, he will probably never use theirs. Of course, yesterday I would never have dreamed I would!), I thought about how odd it was to be in someone else's personal space, with all their personal products around. Earlier in the day I had to open her husband's medicine chest to get his prescription information for the hospital. It felt perfectly normal.
We were talking over supper today about how we never would have thought, 6 months ago, that one of us would be spending time at the other's home, caring for them and living comfortably there. And we marveled at these relationships we have.
They are home now. We'll put Sammy to bed and polish off this bottle of wine we have. We'll rehash the day, be amazed at how well we handled it, thank God for His hand in it. Life is Good.
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