Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Then peace will guide the planets and love will steer the stars

When we say with our last words, "sweet dreams," it is not merely polite. When I say, "I love you all the way to the stars," the expansive measurement is supposed to represent an infinity they can understand, and lull them in comfort to sleep.

We say these things every night. They almost never work.

Last night G woke first. He really might never advance beyond two teeth. The lovely husband got him down but then L awoke. Her cries were loud enough that although she rolled over and immediately fell asleep again, G cried out. The lovely husband rocked him and L called for me.

That's a monumental thing. L never calls for me. She always wants her daddy.

She tattled to me about something her sister did that made no sense and could only have happened in her recent dream and I asked her if she needed a hug. She said yes, and slumped against me until I thought she was asleep. I began to slip out and she cried, I want Daddy.

I wanted to give him a few more minutes to get G to sleep so I said, "sure, sweetie, but can I give you one more hug first?"

She slumped against me and a second time, I thought she was asleep. Then, insolently, NOW can I have Daddy?

The lovely husband got G down and traded spots with me in L's bed and I climbed into our bed, alone, but not for long because minutes later E padded in and pinned my arm with her skull.

And then the alarm went off, waking me but not E. I had to get the lovely husband without waking L, and we began our day's preparations, the ones we hope to accomplish efficiently in peace, when G woke up, followed quickly by L. E didn't awaken at all and I still had to complete the torturous routine of waking her.

And that's how a lot of our nights look but night turned, as it always does, to day, and we did what we do, which is get our three kids ready for school.

Then once the three kids were ensconced, the lovely husband and I ditched work, had an elegant lunch in the West End, and saw a matinee performance at the Kennedy Center.

When you live near the Kennedy Center and you have daytime childcare, sometimes you have to ditch work and have a day date.

It was groovy.

Then we got the kids and played and read books and ate dinner and found pajamas and kissed goodnight and hugged goodnight and snuggled, blessed with sweet dreams, came downstairs to the second half of our evening and now it's time for us to go to bed. One girl has already abandoned her room for ours; the other was just crying on the floor in the hallway; and so far, the baby hasn't stirred.

Thank the moon and planets. Pin It

1 comment:

a li'l bit squishy said...

I have "Aquarius" running through my head from this post. Yay for daydates!!