Thursday afternoon, we were in the playroom. I was about to start dinner. I got up from the floor and just glanced out the window. I saw these HUGE birds. They were enormous! There were 7 of them, and they looked menacing, all packed together. Then, they started strutting across our land and as I looked more closely, I saw that they were actually turkeys. I felt a thrill. Later, alone in our dark bedroom, I would wonder if I had actually seen turkeys, or some kind of demonic bird, a sign of the Apocalypse.
It was early Friday morning when I got my answer. I actually heard them "gobbling." Pretty neat, huh?
Tonight, I was in the playroom and I looked out the window and saw a deer munching something in our yard. I called to RWF and told him to quickly look out the window. RWF and the babies were in our bedroom reading bedtime stories. RWF answered, "Yep, that's a deer!" Then the babies wanted to see it, and in their (loud) commotion, they startled the deer and it ran off.
It is also so cool to look up and see your children play together.
Friday afternoon, I was feeling tired and defeated. I had the end-of-the-week exhaustion that settles into my bones and brain, and I was struggling to see how I would make it through dinner, bath, and bedtime. So I sat in the driveway and watched Bode and Gianna while they ran around. Bode would tease Gianna by riding his bike too close to her, and then speed away. He would do other things that would make her cry. I hate to admit this, but I am protective of Gianna. My default toward Bode is, "You know better," But really, I know better. I know that he's just a little boy, and he doesn't mean anything by what he does. He is only having fun. But as usual, I ran interference, jumping up to soothe Gianna, or running over to Bode and telling him to not do that, or to not do this, blah, blah, blah in his ear. Sometimes I feel like such a nag to Bode. It seems like I am always correcting him. Part of it is being a parent, helping him to 'grow up' by giving him social cues, like, "What do you say?" (say: please/thank you/you're welcome). Other times, it's short orders, like, "Take off your shoes when you walk into the house!" or "Wipe your hands on your napkin, not on your shirt!" But I do think that sometimes, I am constantly droning to him to do one thing or another (or to not do one thing or another). I get into a rut. This happens easily when I am tired and frustrated. It is easier to admonish Bode for not taking off his shoes than to stop what I am doing and help him. It is easier to yell from the kitchen to stop teasing Gianna than to walk into the playroom and try to find a game that will interest them both. (Note: It really isn't easier.) It is these times when I am like this that I go to bed with so much guilt. It is these times when I need to stop the possessive thoughts, drop the "you are my son and you will do this" mindset and take a deep breath. Take a deep breath (or five, or ten) and step away. So Friday, I was at that point, where I was a nag, and constantly correcting my son. My 3 year old son. And I stopped. I sat in the driveway and read my dinner recipe. But the cries from Gianna and the maniacal laughter from Bode continued. I was trying to concentrate on the recipe before me, and not let the commotion cause me to interfere. "Bode," I would warn, without looking up. After a few minutes, I thought about it again, "Why am I yelling at him? They need to do this. Gianna needs to get used to this from her big brother. They need to figure this out for themselves." So I stopped the verbal warnings and just let them work. It took awhile, but I started to hear them 'talking' to each other, and then giggling from both. I looked up at them. They actually started playing together. They had found two trees close together, and were peeking through the trees at each other and giggling. I put down my recipe and watched them instead. It was so nice to see them interacting together and having fun. Later, they would walk around the yard together, playing some kind of game known only to them.
RWF had a business trip this week. He was supposed to return early Friday evening. But then I got the call from him. His flight had been delayed. I was so angry. "Don't ever fly through Chicago again!" I yelled. "I hate O'Hare! It is nothing but trouble!" I fumed into the phone for a few more minutes. When I had finished, his only response was "Okay." He sounded quiet, resigned. The noise and bustle of the airport hummed through the phone. In our silence, I thought about how angry I was that I was going to have to wait another evening before he came home. I thought about how I had told Bode that he would see his daddy tonight before he went to bed. And then I switched gears. I thought about how tired RWF must be, traveling through airports, attending meetings, sleeping in hotels, always moving with a bag or two tethered to him. I took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," I said, and then acknowledged how hard his week must have been, and how I was sorry that he was stuck sitting in an airport when I knew that he'd much rather be at home. I swallowed the knee-jerk reaction to add, "But you don't know how hard this week has been for me," Instead, I focused on him. I told him that he needed to get some water and find a comfortable waiting spot. I told him that I hoped that he didn't have too long of a wait, and that I hoped to see him soon. We got off the phone in much better spirits. Five minutes later, RWF called me. They were putting him on a different plane, and he would be on his way home shortly. Hooray.
It was overcast Saturday morning, and we had decided that RWF should ride in the morning, just in case rain hit us in the afternoon. I decided that I would take the babies to the park. I put them into the car with their fleece jackets and away we went. We got to the park and I stepped out of the car. It was windy and cold. I opened Bode's door and he shivered. "It's coooold!" he said. It was indeed. And I wondered if I had made a mistake. I thought about just getting back into the car and driving home. Instead, I gave the choice to Bode. "Yes, it is cold," I agreed. "Would you like to go home and put on a warmer jacket?" Of course the answer was "No!" I rummaged through my bag, and found two hats, a sweater and a fleece vest for them to wear. It wasn't enough to keep them super warm, but the extra layer might help. I decided that we would stay for 15 minutes, and then head home. We were the only fools ones at the park. I had on a light fleece jacket and I was freezing. I had unselfishly (ha) given Bode my hat. The babies played on everything, impervious to the weather. I kept suggesting that we go home, but was always answered with, "No!" I stood in place and shivered, wondering where Spring had run off to, and why we were suddenly back in freezing Gloomsville. We stayed, through rain and wind, for 45 minutes. I am still chilled to the bone. But the babies had fun.
Happy Saturday.
xo
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