Take 5, Mom: Time Traveller's Edition

My evenings usually consist of spending 1 - 2 hours in the kitchen, cooking, cleaning, preparing for the next day, etc. Ho, hum. Then I retreat to the living room with the fam for some quality time in front of Satan's right-hand man, the television. Sometimes we play games or color or wrestle or...just whatever they want, really. But after falling asleep sitting up during my lunch hour yesterday, I decided that I would skip the general festivities of the evening and retreat to my sanctuary, the bedroom, and watch a movie that I have had stored in my DVR for roughly 6 months. After some flack from the husband (shocker), I commensed to laying down and preparing myself for the visual treat that is Eric Bana.

I have read the book that the movie is based on and was anxious to see it come to life. (Side note: The book was damn confusing and frustrating and emotional and wonderful all at the same time. Considering the time it took me to make my way through it's pages, I wish now that I had just watched the movie. It was much easier to follow and less graphic, for lack of a better word.) I had washed my face, brushed and flossed, clearly not intending to get up of the bed until the alarm clock jolted me, and just in case I couldn't make it through the flick because of what I am beginning to suspect is a mild case of narcolepsy.

I made it through the credits and the first 10 minutes of the movie before my first interruption. All things considered, (the abandonment of my family, the children's boredom, the husband's diskike of the situation) this is pretty good. Caleb comes in and hugs me and tells me he loves me, kissing me and loving on me repeatedly.

Me: What are you doin', buddy?

Him: Avery's beads are all over the place and we are picking them up. Whatchu doin?

Me: I'm trying to watch a movie and you are trying to get out of helping pick up the beads. Goodbye.

He left, but not without a frown/smirk on his face while shutting the door just a little harder than necessary. You could almost hear him thinking, "Dang. She's good."

I watch another 30 minutes of the movie and just when I am really into it, here he comes again.

Me: Caleb, I'm trying to watch a movie. Can you please let me be?

Him: I want to watch it with you. (He climbs up on the bed and covers up, snuggling close. AWwwww, dang it. I hate not to love on him, but come on, man! I just want to watch my movie!)

Me: This movie is not for kids.

Him: I'm not a kid. I'm sixteen. (He's 6) I'm just short. (He says this with a straight face and I can't help but laugh at him, which then blows the stern voice I had worked myself up to.)

Me: Caleb, go.

Him: Mommy, I just want to love on you. And I want to sleep downstairs. ( Their father allows them to sleep in our room, a lot. I think it is unnecessary unless on a weekend or a storm is coming through, so I had already told him that he would sleep upstairs.)

Negotiations begin-

Me: Go. Out. Now.

Him: Whoever is stronger will get to pick where we sleep.

Me: I'm stronger, Caleb. Go.

Him: Well, let's just see. Let's have a contest.

Me: Go, now, or the Playstation is mine for a month.

He left, but not for good. Roughly 10 minutes later he reappears.

Me: Okay, I'm mad now. Get out of this room. You are forcing me to be mean.

Him: I just don't understand why we can't sleep down here.

Me: You know what, I don't care. Leave me alone and you can!!!!

Him: Yes! Daddy said you would give in!

And then he was gone. I'm such a putz. And these are the moments when I wish that I could time travel.

So, I finally get the movie finished and just like the book, it made me cry. Not bawl or hyperventilate cry, but enough to make my nose run. But I have found that once the gates are open, I tend to cry about all sorts of things. The movie is just the catalyst. I am shocked that the movie has ended and I have, by the grace of God, been able to lay in silence and ... just cry. It is cathartic sometimes. Just getting it all out, but my miracle was short lived. The whole family piles in the room and there I lay, red-eyed and snotty.

(Might I just mention, before this next exchange, that my husband has already watched this movie without me. So he is completely aware of the emotional rollercoaster that it could take one on.)

Husband: Is the movie over? ( The credits are rolling.)

Me, long pause: Yeah.

Husband: Are you crying? What are you crying about? (He sounds like Tom Hanks in A League of Their Own. "There's no crying in baseball!" Really? 'Cause there is crying in this bedroom. If you only knew how many tears have been shed here, buddy.)

Me: (I can't describe the look on my face, b/c I have never actually seen myself give it, though it is one that I use quite often, but it says this, "You are a f*#&@%g, retard." Retard being pronounced just as Allen says it in The Hangover.) The movie was sad.

Husband: Oh.

Just another night in "Predictably Ever After".