batteries not included



I have spent the better part of a week now moving at warp speed. The world has been a blur of movement around me as I’ve scrambled to find my footing atop a rapidly shifting landscape.

Survival mode is exhausting. Anxiety has stolen any hope of peaceful sleep. The constant whir of activity and stress has eclipsed any time or motivation I may have had to exercise. I’ve been eating like I have a tip on a famine. Bottom line – I feel like crap and I look worse. The dark circles under my eyes are buying His and Hers towels. 

On Saturday morning, I was sitting in the big chair behind the desk in our office seeking escape on the computer screen. As I surfed through blog land, Brooke rooted around in the drawers of the hutch along the wall. Her little hands overflowed with what she had found there.

Clutching her loot, she made her way over to where I sat. She swung a knee up onto the edge of my chair and pushed my body ever so slightly forward. She lifted her cupped hands to my neck and emptied their contents down the back of my shirt.

A handful of AA batteries made their way down my back and spilled out the bottom of my shirt onto the chair below. Without a word, Brooke scooped them back up. She lifted them up under my t-shirt and into the center of my back where she pressed them into my skin.

Holding them there, she peered around to look at my face. She was checking, I suppose, to see if it had worked.

Had Mama been successfully recharged by a handful of Duracells?

11 thoughts on “batteries not included

  1. Okay, that’s cute and all, but let’s all stop for a moment and hail the creative/brilliant genius that is Brooke?! COME ON. That is pretty damned good.


    It’s pretty intuitive. She knew that you were stressed on some level?

    Pret-ty good, Brooke. Keep charging Mama. We need her around these parts.

  2. OMG, she’s BRILLIANT! (I mean, we already knew that, but, c’mon!)
    Hope things are settling down and your his/hers bags are going away. Mine have asked to be put on the title to the house; they’re pretty much here to stay. 😮

  3. Sticking batteries under your shirt . . . . All I can say is, It’s a good thing that kid of yours never saw Grandpa Zeke recharge the car with a Lincoln Arc Welder and a cattle prod.

    She’s probably never seen those things. But I wonder if she’s considered a plug in adapter to recharge mommy?

  4. that little one cracks me up.

    “Survival mode is exhausting.”

    Ack! What’s going on over there?! I want you to be in survived mode, past tense…get through all of this.

    I’ll repeat the offer: if you need us to show up and smack some people around, we’ll do it. We can be your ninja-like bouncer squad. It’s not the graceful, mature response your father would recommend…but it would (temporarily at least) make us feel better. Just quietly e-mail us names…descriptions…nothing else. Things will happen. Results will be achieved. Shhh.

    Actually, I have no idea what I’m talking about. I get intimidated when my cat meows too loudly.

  5. this story amazed me. the fact that little boo is so tuned in, so (dare i say) aware and empathetic – yup – i said it – said em both! blows me away.

    jer – some good points indeed. thank god for small favors.

    m – past tense sounds delightful but, alas, sometimes we just have to wade through the cr@p for a while before we can get to the other side. damn though, i do love the thought of having ‘people’ – you know, like ‘watch it or i’ll call ‘my people” – yeah, that could work. (or at least the cat)

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