||[Feb. 18th, 2005|11:01 pm]
|||||John Mayer - My Stupid Mouth (Acoustic)||]|
This is a ridiculously detailed piece of semi-gibberish that might be one of my favorite things I've ever written. It was inspired by all the different people I've had come in and out the doors of my home. Hope you enjoy.
When you're an artist, you eventually get skilled enough to where you could paint a picture in the dark and have it turn out exactly like you want it. You get that seventh sense in your head that tells you exactly which colors to mix, how many strokes to use, where to shade and where to crosshatch. It's like knowing your house like the back of your hand. The same is true for mothering I suppose. For as long as I can remember, I dreamed of having children. As a child I would ask for nothing but baby dolls and I would spend my days creating worlds where I was their mother, taking care of their every need, want and whim. It was my one and only dream.
I've learned that very few people in their lives get to achieve their dreams, and I did seven times. I have seven beautiful children, and I revel in being their mother every single day. I've developed that seventh sense of motherhood so well, that I can tell each of my children from the remnants they leave at the breakfast table. My three eldest boys are the ones I've best perfected this with, as it is their three personalities that has made our family name so prevalent around the world.
On this particular morning, Isaac sat at the head of the table. See, out of all of my children, (and my husband) Isaac is the only one who still eats breakfast at the dining room table.(On a regular basis.) Isaac is a ritualistic man. He's been an early riser since he was very young, but he was never one to get up early to watch morning cartoons. As a young boy I would find him playing quietly with his toys, or simply sitting looking out the window. He also loved to get his little red step stool and get the mail, bless his heart. As he got older I'd find him reading and soon playing his guitar.
Before any of this however Isaac creeps out of his room, and into the kitchen. He'll find whichever cereal suits his fancy, (usually Honey Nut Cheerios) pour it into a bowl, minus the milk, make himself an English muffin (if our food stock offers,) and spread peanut butter over each half. (If not an English muffin, half of a plain bagel with blueberry cream cheese, and if we're really running low, wheat toast and mango jam.) Pour himself a glass of juice, (might I inform you, there is at least five types of juices in our fridge at all times. Apple for Isaac, grape for Taylor, and orange for Zachary. Then there's pineapple for Jessica and Avery and fruit for Mackenzie and Zoë.) Then he'll take this, the milk and a napkin or paper towel to the table. He'll set it all down, get the paper, let the dog out and finally sit down to his meal. He pours the milk (2% to be specific. The rest of the family drinks skim, with exception to Jessica, who drinks lactate free milk-she's lactose-intolerant) He then proceeds to consume his meal quietly while reading his paper. He cleans up after himself quite well, but from time to time will leave his glass or napkin on the table, which is precisely what he's done this morning. His creased, hardly used napkin is lying at the head of the table.
This morning Zachary sat on the right side of the table closest to Zoë's booster seat. I can tell from the dried splashes of milk and jelly at the place. Zachary never was a late sleeper, but he never favored getting up early either. (Except on Saturday's he gets up at the crack of dawn with Zoë and Mackenzie, watching morning cartoons. It's been tradition with Zachary and Mackenzie since Mac was about 3 and Zoë just joined right in.) Zac will get up, go to the bathroom, brush his teeth and hair (that is before he cut it) and then he'll wander sleepy eyed into the kitchen. Like Isaac, he's a cereal fiend, but it's usually just that. Some mornings however (like this one) he'll have a piece of wheat toast with wild plum jam. Zachary never drinks juice in the morning, just a tall glass of water (he'll save his orange juice for lunch. When the boys aren't on tour they hardly ever drink any soda, it's too hard on their vocal chords. It's mostly Avery, Mackenzie and Walker who consume the soda in the house. Zoë is too young and for some reason Jessica never liked it.) Zac will take a few minutes to choose his cereal (he usually favors Froot Loops or Fruity Pebbles) make his toast (if he so desires) grab the milk, water pitcher, jam and all his needed materials all to the table. He spreads the jam on his toast first and takes a bite (he insists the jam tastes better warm. His father agrees.) Then he'll pour the milk in the bowl and next his cereal. (Nobody else in the house does it that way I think he does it just to be different.) Then he'll sit down, grab the entertainment and sports section and scarf away while reading. After breakfast, he'll toss his dishes in the sink and head for the shower.
Taylor, my notoriously late sleeper (That boy will sleep all day and night if you allow him. When not on tour he's never out of bed before 12:30PM, thus the culprit for late night studio sessions. Taylor insists that night is when he's at his "creative prime." Walker and I think he's nocturnal.) Sat on the left side, smack dab in the middle. His evidence is a small dusting of pop tart crumbs. Ever since he was a baby Taylor has been a rather spontaneous eater, his breakfast no exception to this rule. (See, because of Taylor's late sleeping habits, he's eating breakfast while the rest of us are eating lunch. Because of his late start, he's massively hungry by dinner time and never passes up an offer for a second helping of potatoes.) Taylor usually comes up with an odd breakfast concoction. Most mornings however, he'll toast two un-frosted pop tarts, smother them with butter (real butter, mind you not margarine or any other substitute) and grape jelly and chow down. He'll repeat this twice, sometimes three times and finish it off with a medium sized glass of grape (on rare occasions white grape) juice, and a large cup of black coffee. (Ritualistic like Isaac, Taylor always uses the same red glass for his juice and the same cobalt blue mug for his coffee. It's the one he purchased in Mexico.) Upon finishing his brunch Taylor will dust himself off and fight with Isaac or Avery for the shower. (I've been trying to talk Walker into renovating and installing another bathroom, but he's stubborn as a bull and won't give in.)
To me, there's nothing more wonderful than knowing each of my children's morning/afternoon (in Taylor's case) routine. It's something charming, predictable and comforting. I would continue with the rest of the family, but with so many of us I'm simply not awarded the time. (It's the Fourth of July and we're all off to buy fireworks.) I will tell you quickly that Avery wakes up shortly after Isaac, but never eats until Zac is at least half way done with his meal. Jessica is in the shower while Zac eats, Zoë rises shortly after Avie and makes herself content with a spoonful of peanut butter and Mackenzie graces us all somewhere around 10:30 and 10:45. I haven’t yet established a routine (even in all my years) but I never get out of bed without a peck on the forehead from Walker and a slobbery peanut butter scented hug from Zoë. (I suppose that may be considered a routine? Oh well.)