Talking to the Owl

Go back to sleep little one
the thunderstorms are blowing in the summer
it’s only thunder and it will pass
smell the fresh wet air like new grass
the fireflies are coming alive
like fairies from a Midsummer dream
the little sprites that follow our loves and lives
they will know we’re leaving this yellow house
because they can speak with the wind and rain
they will know we’re leaving this little yellow house
this yellow house where you were born
this yellow house where your sister was born

Not that I’m making an excuse for not blogging in so long, but one child is a hobby, two is a lifestyle.  I don’t know how people manage with more.  Not that I’m complaining -  I love the double whammy that starts with a hungry baby at 4am and a delighted 4-year-old at 5:30 launching herself into the bed just as the baby and I start to fall back asleep.  My wife loves it so much she’s taking to sleeping upstairs a couple of times a week.

And so begins the storm.  We herd Sylvia through her morning routine and try to put some nourishment into the baby.  We drop the kids at day care and somehow our thoughts of them leave our minds.  I wonder if its better to be able to forget your kids for eight hours or to spend eight hours with them while desperately waiting for your spouse to come home and give you a break.  I think the human mind will find a way to complain no matter how wonderful our lives are.

In the evening, we swoop into day care and cart them back home.  I wonder if I’m a lousy parent because I set Sylvia in front of the TV with a cup of milk and a snack while I feed the dog, have a stiff drink snack and take care of Meredith.  Perhaps I should just break the TV someday.  Perhaps I should break the computer too!  Heheh.  We’ll see how much blogging is done then!  And so on, until the power struggle at dinner, tears, reconciliation, a story and bedtime.  Maybe parenting benefits me by keeping me grounded in a simple, bland routine - maybe bland simplicity is the key to happiness.

I guess I’m happy, in a tired and self-doubting kind of way.  It reminds me of a great song by Paul Thorn:

I guess that I’m a lucky man
I guess that everything ain’t all that bad
There’s always somebody with less
I realize that I am blessed

Children are so surprising.  We just returned from the Alliance Francais Christmas party and my little patriot was transformed magically into a fairy princess by Santa Claus.  Thanks Santa Claus!

They had Christmas presents for the children and they were picked out by age and gender, so she got a little princess costume.  A couple of days ago, she threw a temper tantrum when I mentioned wearing a dress.  Well, I was threatening to make her wear a dress if she didn’t pick out some pants and a long-sleeve shirt to wear, but nevermind.  Now after Santa Claus gave her a fairy outfit to wear and to my delight, she is happily spinning around like a little ballerina, turning her mother and I into frogs.

I don’t know if she’ll ask me to enroll her yet in a ballet class, but the fairy costume is certainly entertaining.  She gave me a good spin and so I know she likes to dance. Anyways, I love ballet as an art and it would be fun to watch her learn it.  She’s warmed up to fairy ballerinas since we listened to the Nutcracker together yesterday, and was very interested to learn about the Rat King and how Clara bashed him with her slipper and saved the prince.

Yes, that is a thick layer of lip gloss mixed with chocolate cake on her face.  My wife had the good sense to toss the body glitter and the fingernail polish.  When she asked me what it was, I lied and told her it was stuff for coloring.   

Having a four-year-old really makes Christmas fun.  The line between reality and fantasy is so blurry in their little minds.  Even though we don’t make a big deal of Christmas of Santa Claus, she is just fascinated with idea.  All the way back to the car, she kept asking me why Santa lands on people’s roofs?  Because he needs to get to many houses and go down the chimney give the kids presents.  Do we have a chimney?  No.  Why don’t we have a chimney?  Because we don’t have a fireplace.  Then Santa won’t come to our house?  Yes, he’ll come through the door, but we have to make sure Teton doesn’t scare him away…