The clanging of heavy metal jewelry and the whisper of wooden drawers being opened and closed are now my alarm clock. Along with “Sssshhh, don’t wake, Mommy” and “Here, look at this one.”
One lesson I have learned while living with another adult is that I like things neat.
I shouldn’t be so shocked. In my college days, I had a movable pile of jacket, jeans, books that moved from bed during the day and chair at night. It was my only mess on a regular basis. My text books and notebooks were piled in a milk create. My art supplies tucked neatly into a tool box. The piles of papers looked suspicious, but I knew what each one was. In high school, I would destroy my room with art projects and getting ready. But as soon as the project was done, everything went back. Any mess was organized.
I looked forward to a bedroom where clothes weren’t strewn about, that shoes didn’t trip me in the middle of the night, that my socks didn’t disappear.
Now I have a bedroom where costume jewelry is strewn about by pirates, Star Wars characters attack my feet in the middle of the night, my favorite rings disappear, carried off for booty. My dresser, no longer a holding pen for random men’s shirts, has become a battle field of jewelry boxes and figurines. My poor crystal penguin has a lost an arm that no one can remember when and who done the heinous act. . .
Me: . . . And it’s all completely annoying.
I was sprawled on my parents’ bed next to my mom. She had a book in her hand and that impatient look of get-out-of-here-so-I-can-read look. I, doing as I had for the last 31 years, ignored the look and handed Tornado A the remote control as he sat between us.
The Friendly Giant: Mom! What’s for dinner?
He crashed on the bed, across the foot, hanging over on both sides.
My mom sighed and opened her mouth.
Face: Ahhhhh! They’re after me.
He jumped onto the bed, taking up what little remained of the bed. Tornado E and Tornado S came barreling after their uncle and clambered up to pile on top of them.
My dad walked in. He turned his head and looked out the bedroom door.
My dad: The Bride, they’re all in here!
My dad unloaded his pocket. I expected him to unclip his holster and badge, but they haven’t hung on his belt for a couple of years. Now he removed his company badge. The Bride walked into the room and leaned on my mom’s dresser.
My dad: I have to change.
My brothers and I blinked back. My boys were trying to jump into their beloved Papi’s arms.
The Bride: I’m sure your parents’ want their privacy.
My brothers and I blinked at her.
My dad: Get out or I start making out with your mother.
My brothers and I scrambled off the bed.
Me: Boys, let’s go.
We all exited the room with more speed than grace.
The Bride: I still can’t believe you guys go in there and hang out like that.
The Face shrugged.
The Friend Giant: We’ve been doing that since we were little.
The Bride: But you sprawl on their bed.
Me: We’re like a pride of lions.
Well, at least, I have a bigger bed.