Oddities 
I woke early, heart racing, dark dreams prickling – my own version of a global thriller, complete with missing mid-century masterpieces, a chase scene through a foreign airport, running for my life across an unknown border, and the face of the enemy in pursuit.
Frankly, I kept waiting for action hero Jason Bourne to pop up. Was this the latest in his series of films? Would I manage to save myself and my children? And what of the fact that I saw my enemy, when that has never occurred in my dreams before?
And I don’t know why.
I woke, then dozed into a second state of strange slumber. I was cleaning and organizing; I was a housekeeper, padding up the back stairs of a stately manse – very Remains of the Day. I left my tattered coat and scarf on the landing, tip-toed to the room where I would don my apron, and began preparations for a long stretch of tidying and sweeping. And I don’t know why.
Odder still
My 18-year old, now home, has been cleaning. Really cleaning. Scrubbing and organizing, assessing and reorganizing, and yes – there have been through-the-night parties and extra teens sleeping over.
Yet in a few days, my son has resurrected two dead computers, taken apart the fossilized lawn mower and tried to fix it, while in and out of the house covered in grease and muttering about fuel injection and other things beyond my ken. As for additional broken things? There’s enough to keep him busy (and entertained) for months, but he’ll only be home for another week. But the cleaning? The organizing? The unsolicited assistance? The caring camaraderie he has exhibited for his brother, still stressed as he pushes through the last hard days and nights of Junior Year?
The level of kitchen time (and maternal cooking) has ratcheted up, but so has the degree of mirth around the dinner table. And I know exactly why.
Cleaning Frenzy
As for the prodigy artiste, since painting three walls of his room (and considerably sleep-deprived), he is the poster child for the adolescent variant of menopausal mood swings. Yet two days ago, in the midst of a mountain of school work, he cleaned his room. And I don’t know why.
Three nights ago my elder son was down on his hands and knees with basin tub and tile cleaner, battling stains I’ve long since given up on. And I don’t know why.
Two nights ago he was scrubbing the kitchen microwave, the inside of the oven, the stove top, the greasy burners (with toothbrush), and every pot and pan in the house! He was using assorted chemical sprays, natural solvents, and rubbing alcohol. And I certainly don’t know why.
Later, he washed dishes and put them away, then teased me about the state of my (few) kitchen cabinets, whereupon he emptied them and reorganized the limited storage space for my dishes, bowls, and silverware drawers.
And I don’t know why.
Cleaner Still
Of course he left all his implements of mad science and sanitizing for me to put away – the grease-dirtied toothbrush, the Fantastik and sponges, the bottle of Isopropyl alcohol, which I questioned him about. He proceeded to shake his head and extol the virtues of simple solutions, for sparkling computer screens and dust-free drives, and the kitchen counter that is currently (and uncharacteristically) gleaming like the stove top and burners where I suspect the many uses for rubbing alcohol around the house 
played some role.
The lawn mower has been left outside awaiting whatever proposed tinkering might be next, and I still must remind both boys to clear their plates and glasses after dinner, to pick up their underwear, and to put the car keys back on the table. My car keys.
This odd mix of leaving trails and urgency to clean? Truthfully, I don’t know why.
Traveling with tools
In the cleaning frenzy, in the laughter that has filled the house in the past week, in the desire to help without being asked, the opposites of mess and tidying make for interesting tensions. Just like the lighter mood must coexist with domestic dramas churning behind the scenes.
Meanwhile, my son’s luggage remains spread on the living room floor. And as the Latvian Suite Storage Closet has been occupied by some of his friends for several nights, putting away his bags is out of the question. But this morning, I glanced in the open bag and noticed a set of bit sockets and wrenches, ratcheting T-drivers and his Leatherman. My son travels with tools.
I smiled, and at that moment, loved him profoundly. Which is not to say that I don’t always love him profoundly, but there was something eccentric, poignant, and practical in his cargo, as there has been in the teasing and fixing, the grease and the solvents, along with the watchful eye on his brother.
Why has this struck me so deeply? I know exactly why.
Endearments
When marriage breaks and nothing is ever “right” again, it is difficult to see the features of your ex in the faces of your children. His habits and gestures. The resurfacing of the person who caused you pain. It is one more way in which it seems impossible to move on.
I have been fortunate. My sons are a blend of the finest of both sides of the familial divide. In my elder, physically, I see a flicker of my father as well as my former mother-in-law. Creativity in my younger is the hallmark of my ancestral tree, while his passion for tennis is his dad and my father-in-law, as is the quirky humor. As for my firstborn’s unstoppable urge to take things apart, and his determination to put them together again?
In this, perhaps he is the heart of his father and his mother. While being – always – very much his own man.
Why I’m fond of Isopropyl Alcohol
As I understand it, Isopropyl alcohol is potentially hazardous, and incredibly utilitarian. It is a clear chemical mixture that is essentially acid and water. I cannot express how fitting this seems as I run through the film of my marriage, and the years since. Destructive power and translucence. Potential volatility, yet easily managed. There is a European formula and an American variation. Most households contain this common solution, for multiple uses, and don’t forget its existence or capacity.
There are bad dreams, tough times, and the face of many sorts of enemies. But fear and worry are offset by laughter, by generosity, and by kindness. I observe compassion and caring in both my sons. And I know exactly why.
I love that you are able to see in your sons the same goodness that you saw in their father. I know so many women (and men) who loathe the steady glimpses of their exes that show up in their children.
Also, I keep a spray bottle of isopropyl alcohol always at the ready in my kitchen right next to a water/vinegar mixture. Along with baking powder, they are really all you need.
It is not always easy to not react to certain things in your children, that were irritations in an ex. But it’s critical to see them as their own individual selves. Always.
Sounds like you already know a good deal more about cleaning than I do… 🙂 I’m wondering if this was all some great chemistry experiment for my scientific son… Or just enormous kindness, seeing me tired and busy and needing help. And, he’s teaching me to fish. Even when it comes to simple things like Isopropyl Alcohol.
Ah, what’s not to adore about a post with mentions of Jason Bourne and The Remains of the Day in the opening sequence? And the metaphor of the alcohol – water and acid, common yet powerful, gentle and powerful – is a brilliant one. I am glad that your sons continue to show you the best sides of their particular chemistries.
By the way, when your elder son is done with his rubbing alcohol escapades at your house, please let him know that there’s space for a young man of his obvious industry here in the Midwest. 🙂
Ha! You’d like to borrow an industrious 18-year old?
Would that I could keep him home for more than 7 additional days! But he’s off to an internship in electronics, in Europe, where he’ll be working in French and English. (Gee, I wonder where he gets that from?? And I don’t mean the electronics part…) 🙂
Oh, what great sons you have! Truly, sounds like your #1 is going above and beyond. It’s never easy (for child or parent) to come home from college, but he’s really stepping up. Seeing a need and taking care of it. What more could you ask for??
He does get GREAT meals, free use of my car, the Latvian Suite for his friends (and all-night parties)… so, he’s not too unhappy. BUT, what else could I ask for? That he be around a little longer. I realize how dreadfully I miss him, as soon as he comes home. And the place just isn’t the same when he isn’t here, with his particular mischief AND magic. (And I cannot even bear to think of when my younger son flies the nest. One more year. Just too hard to imagine.)
And yes, I have amazing sons. I am truly fortunate.
What happiness your older son has brought home — I can feel it in your words and astonishment. Hope he’ll be back soon.
You know, I hadn’t thought of it that way, CT. While I’ve always been the parent, and not tried to be “the friend,” my elder son and I have had a remarkable relationship from the time he opened his gregarious little mouth before he was one year old. And he’s pretty much never stopped asking, inventing, entertaining, discussing, and pushing me to reconsider the world ever since. I have missed his light dreadfully in the past year he’s been away at college. Remarkably, he has called between classes just to chat – sometimes in English, sometimes in French.
Writing is such an isolating enterprise. And solo parenting isolates you even more. I realize now how much his brother must have been missing him as well – though of course he would never admit it. (What sibling would?) Yes, I’m happier when he’s around. I’m more challenged intellectually, and my limits, pushed – as with any teenager. But the best part is knowing he has been well “launched,” and I believe, will make his own way happily. And I hope, always in his brother’s life and my life, in some deeply connective way.
“There are bad dreams, tough times, and the face of many sorts of enemies. But fear and worry are offset by laughter, by generosity, and by kindness.” This is amazing! I find this battle to be on going. Fear and worry vs. laughter and grace.
I can’t imagine either of my sons going on a cleaning spree. Seems miraculous.
How I love the laughter and the extra teens and the cooking.
You’re raising a fine young man there, DA.
Oh Wolf, this is a beautiful post. Thinking about your son and how he is taking care of you and his brother makes me smile. He must have learned that from you.
The metaphor you tied into this is perfect. A perfect mix. The absolute best materials. That describes your sons.
Amber, my sons have been the joy of my life. As much as I’m worn out from pulling solo parenting duty for so many years, and look forward to a bit more freedom, both boys are individuals I’d like in my life – as people. And when this parenting gig is no longer “full time,” a piece of my heart will go missing. (So I best find a way to go missing to Paris, where I find other pieces of my heart to pour myself into!)
“I cannot express how fitting this seems as I run through the film of my marriage, and the years since. Destructive power and translucence. Potential volatility, yet easily managed.”
This floored me. I’m without a doubt sure of your feeling with this sentence. Your eloquence with words is just stunning. As in frankly, you stunned me.
I can’t even fathom the day that my boys leave the coop, but when they do I want them as individuals in my life. As people! This is so very true. I hope that you get to enjoy your freedom and the full maximum capacity of enjoying that freedom while your heart still belongs to your two young men.
Thank you, Alita. And I am definitely trying to enjoy my boys while they’re around. Of course, they’d rather be with their friends. 🙂 Except when I cook. (I’m cooking a lot these days!)
So, I am impressed.
My husband tends, somewhat selectively, toward the neat and clean side of life. And probably from feelings of envy and inferiority, sometimes it drives me nuts. (Unfairly, the things he isn’t neat about drive me nuts, too.)
My son, so far, has inherited some of dad’s neatness and some of scattered me.
I feel about vinegar the way you feel about rubbing alcohol, which I will forever associate with having my ears first pierced. Ouch.
Leslie, you just hit one of my hot buttons. Why is it that we who are not the “neatest” always feel inferior to those who are? Why is “neat” deemed superior to not so neat, anyway?
Ok. I almost clicked away so I could go get some lunch. Then I remembered catching a glimpse of this post. I needed to come back to read why you are fond of isopropyl alcohol. I love it! I love the kids cleaning and organizing. Perhaps your youngest cleaned his room because as burned out as he is, cleaning and organizing his own space helped give his brain a break. I felt similar relief recently, when I was caught up in my funk and negativity, and remembered reading an old article from The Sun magazine, an interview with Dr. Bronner: A Metaphorical Rainbow.
Thank you for another wonderful post!
My cousin recommended this blog and she was totally right keep up the fantastic work!
Put me down for another who would like to borrow your son. If for anything but to teach my daughter a thing or two – cleaning house is all I meant, btw. (And all of you who thought otherwise get your mind out of the dustpan!)
I knew that! 🙂