Just For Today

(abbreviated version from my book, "Don’t Come In Here! Mom’s Throwing Spaghetti!")

Just for today, the petunias in our back yard were safe. No carrots were uprooted from the garden to serve as third base. The rubber ducky in the wading pool swam alone on a sea of still water. Ants dared to emerge from their anthills and play on our sidewalk.

Just for today, my toothbrush wasn’t suspiciously wet when I reached for it. No globs of toothpaste appeared in the sink. I had time to curl my eyelashes, and when I left my favorite tube of lipstick on the counter, it was there when I came back. I didn’t have to rescue any little plastic action figures from a watery grave in the toilet bowl.

Just for today, no puddles of grape Kool-aid appeared on the kitchen floor. Nobody asked for chocolate pudding. The lid stayed on the jar of peanut butter.

Just for today, no bicycles turned up with flat tires. Nobody asked for a motorcycle. No more towels disappeared, and no muddy sneakers were found on the lawn.

Just for today, no new fingerprints appeared on the windows and walls. I dusted the furniture. I watched the news without getting up once. I read entire chapters from Life and Death in Shanghai instead of The Cat in the Hat three times. I called a friend and talked for twenty minutes straight.

Just for today, I baked cookies and got to eat the first one. I ate five more and called it dinner.

Just for today, nobody said things weren’t fair. Nobody needed a band-aid. I was calm and refined. I heard the refrigerator hum and the clocks tick. I heard my brain formulating intelligent, adult ideas.

Just for today, I didn’t run out of milk.

Just for today, my husband took the children fishing.