I have today off. From paid work. The kids are at school. He’s at work. And I am alone for the first time since . . . since June or May. So I’m alternating cleaning the house and playing. And I feel anxious only I don’t know why. Just a general feeling of impending doom.
I took away all the eyeliner I could find in the house yesterday. The screaming fits of “You can’t do that!” only served to support my decision. I didn’t do it because I can’t handle the inch thick schmere on their faces or because I’m a big old meanie.
There are black marks all over the carpets, the bathroom sink, the hand soap dispenser, the basement floor, the bottoms of my shoes, and the cat. I didn’t know what it was they were doing to create this black greasy mess. Does the oldest fall down alot on her face? Does her eyeliner clump off and fall onto the floor?
Then this morning after she’d left for school, with her blonde bangs hanging over (GASP) thickly lined eyes, I figured it out. There was debris on the bathroom floor from a freshly sharpened and now hidden eyeliner pencil. Flakes of soft blackened shavings tracked through to the living room.
“No Mom, it wasn’t me! No, Mom I always sharpen things over a trash can. No, Mom that isn’t black on your face where you accidentally petted the cat who had rolled in my shavings.”
I can just hear it now.
Days off are great as long as I leave the house, but I’m afraid to because I don’t know where I’ll find the next black streak.
I think I’ll save the discussion of wet, crumpled, mysterious washcloths for later. One thing at a time.