On more sleep. That is all there is before we leave to take C to Hobart, Oklahoma tomorrow. Before you ask my heart is breaking but there is nothing I can do, he has his mind made up. Today we’ve been getting ready for the trip. š From Haircuts to Goodnights: Our 2 PMā10 PM Tuesday Story has a lot to share with you this afternoon.
There are days in a momās and even a dad’s life that donāt just happen ā they unfold. They stretch. They pull at you in ten different directions while still asking you to stay soft, stay steady, stay present. Today was one of those days. A Tuesday that started like any other but somehow turned into a whole chapter of our family story between 2 PM and 10 PM.
By 2 PM, the house had already shifted into its afternoon rhythm. David was home and had to take the truck to check the oil in it for our trip tomorrow. Before that we had to take Charlie to get a haircut but they didn’t have anyone he wanted to cut his hair.
When we got home David claimed the dining room for his TV time, remote in hand like it was a tool of destiny. Gerald was stretched out on the couch, comfortable as ever, listening to the world move around him. The dogs had done their patrols and were now watching every move C made like they knew something big was happening. And me? I was tucked away in my room, laptop open, trying to finish work while the clock ticked louder than usual.
But today wasnāt a normal Tuesday. Today was supposed to haircut day ā the last haircut before C leaves for a while. Although we couldn’t find someone to cut C’s hair, so he cut it himself. LORD help us all. If you’re a mom, you know exactly what that means. Itās not just a haircut. Itās a moment. A marker. A reminder that time is moving whether I’m ready or not.
So, I rushed to get dressed ā half ready, half flustered ā because David was already honking outside like we were late for a parade, and Deb was here waiting, for Gerald to decide what he was doing, and the dogs were losing their minds because heaven forbid anyone leave the house without them. Real life. Real timing. Real chaos.
Once we got home Charlie asked me to call Lisa Marie Bird. Who said she would do Cās haircut. Once again life got turned upside down as David had to take Charlie over to Lisa. Charlie sat on her back porch like he like he always does ā calm, quiet, pretending he doesnāt know Iām staring at him in the mirror, memorizing the shape of his face, the way he smirks when the clippers tickle his neck, the way heās growing into himself faster than my heart can keep up. Moms notice these things. We tuck them away like little treasures.
When we got home, the house had shifted again. It always does. David was back in the dining room, TV going, deciding what he was going to cook from what I took out this morning which was Hamburger Meat from HEB that was on sale and we stocked up on. Tonightās dinner is SOS ā and as my parents referred to it Shit on the Shingles ā the Army meal my parents swore by. Many people call by a different name and use different types of Meat. We use Hamburger Meat, white or cream gravy which can be a packaged gravy mix or Homemade Gravy like my dad taught me, fried taters ie potatoes, and memories you can smell before you taste. Itās not fancy, but itās real. Itās filling. Itās the kind of meal that sticks to your ribs and your childhood at the same time. It’s also the kind of meal we have leftovers from for lunch the next day when we cook once eat twice and its’ a 30-minute meal and dinner on a budget cooked by a dad.
C started packing, which in our house means clothes everywhere, chargers missing, and me trying not to cry while pretending to fold things āthe right way.ā Heās got his rubber maid tote open on the bed, no, suitcase or duffle bag for C because this will hold snacks and his shoes and a game controller peeking out like itās trying to escape. Bear and Pheobie follow him from room to room like theyāre memorizing his steps. They know. They always know.
I tried to finish work, hiding in my room like a teenager avoiding chores, but my heart wasnāt in it. Not today. Not when every sound in the house felt like a countdown. Not when every moment felt like it needed to be held a little tighter.
By 6 PM, the house smelled like SOS ā gravy bubbling, taters frying, steam rising from the electric skillet like a memory you can see. David was in his element, stirring the pan like he was feeding an army. Gerald wandered into the kitchen, sniffing the air like a cartoon character floating toward a pie on a windowsill. C grabbed a plate and sat down like he always does, but tonight it felt different. He felt older. Or maybe I just felt the moment more.
We ate together ā not fancy, not quiet, not perfect ā but together. And thatās what matters.
At 8 PM, I claimed my time. My oneāonāone time with C. No TV. No noise. No chaos. Just us. We sat together, talking about everything and nothing. Laughing. Remembering. Pretending tomorrow wasnāt coming as fast as it was. I watched him talk, watched him smile, watched him grow right in front of me, and I tucked every second into my heart like a keepsake. As I programmed his new phone even though he may not call or text me why he is gone.
These are the moments moms donāt talk about enough ā the quiet ones. The ones where youāre not teaching or correcting or rushing. Youāre just being. Sitting with your child, knowing theyāre not a child anymore, but still wanting to hold onto the pieces of them that feel like home.
By 10 PM, the house had dimmed. The dogs settled into their spots. David turned off the TV. Gerald headed to bed. And C walked down the hallway to his room for the last time in this house for a while. I stood there longer than I should have, listening to him breathe, watching the door close, thanking God for every minute, every mess, every meal, every memory.
Tonight wasnāt perfect. It was real. It was ours. And thatās enough.
Some days are just days. But some days ā like this one ā become part of your familyās story forever.
šŖ Welcome to the Circus these are my Monkes & Why the Circle remains unbroken
If youāre new here, this is our life ā messy, loud, loving, faithāfilled, and real. We call it The Circus, and more times than not you will find us going down the Rabbit Hole because every day someone is juggling, someone is balancing, and someone is trying not to fall off the tightrope.
And we call our community The Circle, because no matter how far our kids go ā Oklahoma, Texas, or anywhere in between ā the circle always brings them home and it remains unbroken.
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Thank you,
Glenda, Charlie and David Cates
