trading spaces

drop the kids off at gramma's.
drive home.
pull food from the fridge,
inhale.
better drink 8 0z of water --
don't want to get dehydrated this afternoon.

scoot down to the basement.
grab the empty rubbermaid bucket.
toss in the cordless drill, a phillips bit,
those funky lamps,
and those two new ironman posters.
don't forget the packing tape.

dash up two flights of stairs,
bucket on the floor -- push it aside with my foot,
start stripping the beds.
remake them: spiderman on top bunk,
transformers on twin bed,
4x4 on bottom bunk.

re-arrange the stuffies -- polar bear, panda, elephant --
will he miss his heart-shaped pillow?
click the bottom-bunk bedrail into place.
spill clothes into a pile, drag dressers down the hall.
sort and re-fold clothes --
gotta get dan to put this drawer back together.

plug in those funky lamps,
take down that cross-stitched birth announcement,
slide it under my bed for now, remove the screw from the wall.
tape up an ironman poster in its place.
"war machine" -- is this a good guy or a bad guy?
ah, to my kid, it's a super protector. good guy.

back to the bunk-bedroom --
the red ironman poster goes up top (this one's definitely a good guy).
overturn the toy box,
fill the rubbermaid with small-parts toys,
close the lid, carry it to the no-more nursery.
sort socks and sweaters and cubbie vests.

look around.
i did a pretty decent job vacuuming.
sprawl in the big-boy-room chair.
whoa. what just happened? this is a teen-ager room!
i just turned my five-year-old into a teen-ager!
what was i thinking??

change it back!!
our baby won't sleep through those highway noises!
our middle boy will resent the baby waking below!
our big boy will feel ousted from his best friend's room!
am i wrecking my children??
it's fine. we're all fine.

tired this morning, but happy, and fine.