Do What You Can

Ian glared at his casted leg, at the crutches that had slipped from being propped up against the wall to being just out of reach on the floor. He growled at the TV remote, threw it down on the bed by his feet. Next to him, lay the laptop he had slammed closed. He couldn’t bare another moment of mind-numbing screens. Books were strewn across the bed. He was tired of them too.

Can’t go out. Can’t even go downstairs. Can’t walk, run, train. Can’t go to work. Can’t drive. Can’t shower. Bathing has to be done sitting down. Doctor’s orders. It’s not just an injury, or even a re-injury, it’s a re-re-injury. Hence the bed rest. Literal in bed, leg up, bed rest. Ten days of it. Seven were up.

Sick of the computer, sick of books, sick of TV, sick of solitaire, sick of trying to nap. Sick of being in bed.

But not sick.

Can’t, can’t, can’t.

Sick, sick, sick.

Mary smiled lovingly at her four sleeping children. It was “re-stock day,” her once-a-month trek into town to load up on groceries and whatever else they needed. It was cold out but the sun was bright, so the inside of the minivan wasn’t too bad. The children were tucked into their new sleeping bags, one child on the floor, the others on the bench seats. There hadn’t been much for Christmas, but preschoolers don’t know the cost of their presents, just the size, and the sleeping bags wrapped in boxes inside of boxes had taken up ample space under the tiny Christmas tree. Chance and his sisters laughed each time they unwrapped a box just to find another box that needed unwrapping. Even the baby had laughed. A slumber party in the living room was the requisite ending to that Christmas day. Watch movies borrowed from the library until we all fall asleep. A special treat.

Mary screwed on the top to the thermos of still warm chicken broth. The first time she’d packed something hot for a cold re-stock day, she’d mistakenly brought hot chocolate. They didn’t nap well after that. It was a joy to have her children along on what would otherwise be a lonely day of errand running and grocery buying. Not such a joy if they are cranky from lack of sleep. But they were sleeping now, soundly enough that she could clean up from their lunch. In some ways, re-stock day worked better in summer. Then they could eat and nap outside instead of in the van. Cold weather, however, made storing perishables in the van a lot easier.

She eyed the worn paperback she had stashed in the console the night before. She had put it on reserve at the library and finally it had come in. First, she must review her lists: one for the warehouse store, one for the grocery store, and one for “other.” Then there was the list of the stops: the bank, post office, and armory included. They were a little off schedule but no problem. The crock-pot meal she had assembled could easily wait and the coveted granola bars she’d made were hidden under her seat, just in case.

The crock-pot meal! Had she remembered to turn it on? Her cell phone had long since run out of minutes. She franticly shot her eyes around the strip mall’s enormous parking lot, knowing that even if she did spot a pay phone, it would be too far away to use unless she started up the van and drove over to it. Even then it would be hard to keep an eye on the kids while she called Jenny.

Mary reviewed their morning. Tia had had an accident just as everyone was putting on coats. Mary had changed the girl’s clothes, and resorted to disposable pull-ups for the day. But had she turned on the crock pot? Yes. Yes, she had. After she shooed them to the coat box, she had turned around to the stove, which doubled as a counter, and turned the knob. She remembered pausing to calculate how many hours they’d be gone and then deciding on the low setting.

Whew!

Mary glanced again at her children. All eyes were closed; breathing was heavy and even. How she loved them. She’d never known how much a person could love until she became a mom. What amazing revelations motherhood held.

She picked up the novel and leaned back in her seat. She felt inside the front cover for her bookmark, the most important list of all. It was entitled, “Do What You Can.”

Hiking, sledding at Ian and Jenny’s, library, cooking, baking, crafts with trash, crafts with sticks and stones, board games, card games, sing, dance, make up a play, playground, blind fold games, visit the nursing home, just-us slumber parties, …

Mary took the pen from behind her ear and added, “watch children sleep.”

Ian picked up his cell. “Jenny, can you bring up those old dumbbells. I think they’re in the garage.” He rolled his eyes. “No, no. I intend to follow doctor’s orders. Just upper body.”