I have a favorite chair. When we first brought it home, it was big and comfy. It came with an ottoman. I would put my feet up, my back sinking into the cushions. It was heavenly, and it was positioned perfectly so that I could see the television, the stairs, the front and the back door, all at the same time. If you're a mom, then you know how important it is to have visual contact with these areas.
I decided that it was my chair. I should have known better. Moms don't really get to have a "spot", not unless they fight tooth and nail. Things from the other two people living in the house just start creeping over to my side of the bed, or on my vanity, or in my car. Mom Creep, I call it. My chair was not immune.
First it was my child. Zane decided that he liked my chair, so I'd come downstairs and find him curled up in MY chair, playing on his tablet.
"You're in my chair," I said, nicely. "Get up."
"You're just like Sheldon," Zane grumbled as he moved to a different seat, comparing me to a character on the show The Big Bang Theory. A few minutes later, however, he was squeezing in next to me. I was disgruntled at having to share, mostly because occasionally I like to do things without having a child or a dog attached to me.
Next, when Maisy came along, she decided that the very best place to take a nap was on top of the cushion at the back of MY chair. It was fine, at first, because she was a puppy. She would curl up around my shoulders. Now, however, Maisy is a sixty pound dog, who still thinks that the back of my chair is the place to be. The cushion is smushed flat, try as I might to fluff it back up.
Then I came downstairs, bleary-eyed, one morning to find my husband in MY chair, his feet propped up, his hands clutching an X-Box One controller. A steaming mug of coffee was on the table next to him. I did not say a word, but headed to the kitchen for my own coffee. After I'd had my first cup, I went back into the living room.
"You're in my chair," I said, gruffly. "Get up."
"You're just like Sheldon," Larry grumbled, as he moved to a different seat. I sat down, but it just wasn't the same anymore. I sighed heavily.
"What is wrong?" My husband asked me.
I grumbled under my breath. He knew darn well what was wrong! I just put my head down and inhaled the steam from my coffee. I needed to let it go, I knew. Moms are all about sharing. We share our bodies to bring our children into this world, what's one little chair?
Maybe the next one.