On Our Way to Crazy

By Linda Sherwood

It was two o'clock in the afternoon and I had at least an hour before my oldest would be home from school. My husband wouldn't arrive for another three hours. I sat on the couch for the first time all day with plans to relax for the next five minutes. I looked around the house with satisfaction, knowing how much I'd worked today. It was time for me.

But wouldn't you know it? My husband came home early.

He walked in the door and I jumped off the couch. My guilt clearly showed on my face as he glanced at my attire.

"You're still in your pajamas?" he asked, surprised. "Do you do this every day?"

Well, not every day. Just once in a while. The kids were also still in their pajamas.

"You're not supposed to be home yet!"

"Apparently not," he said with a grin.

That was it. I knew I had a problem. In the past, I had reasoned that it was better to wear pajamas when tackling the dirty kitchen or scrubbing the windows. After all, you didn't want to get all sweaty after getting dressed for the day. Yet, there is something very wrong with still being in your pajamas at 2 p.m. in the afternoon, no matter how much work you'd accomplished while wearing them. I decided to change my ways.

I knew that I needed to start getting dressed every morning or my children would grow up thinking it was completely OK to wear Batman pajamas at 2 in the afternoon. Not that I wear Batman pajamas. Honest.

It was early the next morning and the kids hadn't had breakfast yet. I was in my bedroom getting dressed for the day. Intrigued by my decision to get dressed early, my kids surrounded me in my bedroom.

"Where are we going, Mom?" asked my 3-year-old.

"I don't want to go," said my 5-year-old. Wait a minute! I didn't say we were going anywhere so how can she complain so early?

Undaunted, I continued to dress and I urged my children to do the same. Confused, they wandered into their bedrooms in search of clothing. The oldest quickly came back.

"Should I bring my bathing suit?" she asked. "Or will I need my tennis shoes?"

Happily, my children adjusted quickly to the new me. They soon realized that you could get dressed and stay home. They even learned it was preferable to wander out of doors in their shirts and pants rather than au natural.

I knew it was time for the next step. The next day, after getting dressed, I put on my shoes. They quickly had me surrounded.

"Where are we going? asked my 3-year-old.

"I don't want to go," protested my 5-year-old.

The youngest, at age 2, looked up at me with wonder, "Mommy?"

My husband had also gotten dressed and it wasn't even a work day for him. Clearly it was going to be a big day, my children thought.

"Where are we going?" the 3-year-old asked once more, this time addressing her father.

"Crazy," he replied.

"Can I go to Crazy?" she asked.

"You're already there."

"No, I'm not," she protested. "I want to go crazy!"

Next she turned to me with tears in her eyes. Her little brother quickly picked up on her signals and also began crying.

"I want to go Crazy," she protested. "You can't leave me. Who's going to watch me? Take me with you!"

No matter how much I tried to assure her, she thought we were planning to abandon her. I guess the shoes were so we could outrun her.

"We're not going anywhere," I said, slipping off my shoes. Baby steps, I thought. We'll try the shoes thing again tomorrow.

"Where is Crazy?" she asked, crawling into my lap. "Is that where Grandma lives?"

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