My “Ish”

My mom can fold a perfect fitted sheet.

No lie.  If you were to look in her linen closet you would see stacks of sheets as if they were still in their department store packaging.

Perfectly folded fitted sheets.

I was intrigued by this wonder and had her teach me.  Corner tucked into the corresponding corner pocket.  Creases, folds, and wah-lah!  A perfectly folded fitted sheet.

After learning this skill from my mom, I was so confident that the next time I was faced with roommates and an unfolded fitted sheet, I boasted about my new talent and began to demonstrate the perfect fitted sheet fold.

The tuck went okay, but then things started to fall apart with the creases and the folds.  My fitted sheet ended up the same way it always had up to that point.

Rolled up into a ball and then sat on for flattening.

Wah-lah!  Fitted sheet folding at my finest. Folded-ish.

When it comes to the more challenging skills, I seem to operate on an “ish” scale.

Was it folded?  Yeah, sort of.  Folded-ish.

Did it look nice?

Nice – ish. 

On another note – Can I draw a Mario?

It would turn out Mario – ish.

Can I repair a chair leg?

Fixed – ish (just don’t lean forward on the orange chair).

Over the past year, Catelyn has reorganized her room  AT LEAST twice a week.  Every morning I wake her for school and wonder what corner of the room her bed will be in.

The change is kind of fun, I get it.  So, yesterday I decided to rearrange the furniture in my room as well.

Did it turn out well?

Well-ish.  Just don’t move the books holding up the ancient bed frame.

As exciting as it was for me, it was less thrilling for Declan. 

So put off was he by the new location of his bed, he didn’t sleep. 

WE didn’t sleep.

I sent Declan to school regardless of his sleepless night.  Throughout the day, I continuously refreshed my email, I held my phone – just waiting for the call or for the message to let me know the obvious:

“Declan is having a tough day.”

The message never came.  At the end of the day, I greeted Declan at the end of our driveway where his bus deposited him.

Even through the mask, I could tell he was frowning.  As I brought Declan inside, the tears came.  When the tears came, the hood to his jacket got pushed back, revealing a great big piece of silly putty squished into the hair on the top of his head.

Unbeknownst to me, Declan took his silly putty to school.  He enjoyed sticking the putty to certain things to see their imprint in the putty throughout the day.  His final imprint was his last.  Declan chose to see what his hair imprint looked like in the putty. 

Except the putty never let go.

Embarrassed by his misfortune, Declan had to finish the last bit of his school day with putty stuck in his hair.  Letting all the tears out when he got home.

We faced the next challenge through the tears: how to remove the putty from Declan’s hair. After seeing the putty wasn’t moving with a few tugs and trying a few online hacks, the scissors made an appearance.  Declan dutifully let me cut his hair.

Over the quarantine I achieved a new skill.  Cutting the boys hair.  I’m not going to lie – it also started as an “ish.”

Did I cut the boys hair?

Ehhhhhh…. Ish.

Did it look nice?

Nice-ish. 

Thankfully, I have gotten the most practice on Declan and know how to cut his hair.  The putty was removed.

Declan is now back to himself – ish.  After the whole ordeal, Declan took a break in his cozy canoe (a cool little tool that provides deep pressure while he is chillin’). I am hopeful the rest of the night follows a similar vibe.

Sort of, somewhat, kind of, not really but close – these are all my “ish.” My best attempts. I am proud to say Declan’s hair is no worse for the wear. I wish he was smiling but am happy he is no longer frowning. Hopefully, he is more comfortable-ish with the bedroom set up tonight and will catch some Zzz’s. A good night’s rest is just what we need!