My younger son’s bath towel is hanging on the stair railing. One of his socks has been on a living room chair for two days. I’m trying not to notice. It’s been more than a week since my foot surgery and the whole family is learning a lot. My older son has found that watering plants requires some manual dexterity to keep the water from spilling everywhere. The younger one has discovered that the cat not only eats, he poops, and he (my son) has learned to clean the litter box. My ex-husband, who has been a trouper through it all, learned to make a banana cream pie and now realizes that taking care of kids, the house and work requires a lot of juggling. And I’ve learned to keep my mouth shut — mostly. Except for the first couple days I spent in a drug-addled haze, my surgery has been a mom’s dream come true. When else do I have the chance to sit around with my feet up all day and have men wait on me? But I can take only so much of a good thing. I’m anxious to get off the sofa and get moving again. I want to get that sock off the chair and the towel off the railing.
Liz Atwood is a former Baltimore Sun features editor who teaches journalism at Hood College. She is the mother of two sons, ages 12 and 16.