growing

So, looking through all the old photos and videos, I saw CB and R and H grow up before my eyes all time-lapsey. I heard the bass notes start to enter R's timbre. I laughed with tears in my eyes at Charlotte's stilted language. I saw H grow inches.

I thought of how fleeting this time in their lives is. And, how much we've all grown together. This is the second year I've given my little buccaneers Valentine's gifts. I was surprised at how sweet it was to do something for the second time. Usually, I'm more blown away by the firsts.

Two nights ago, two small boys came one after the other into the kitchen for a big hug and a kiss goodnight. "Oh!" I said, startled before settling into a grin that ran the width of my face. C walked in a couple of seconds later and saw me surrounded by small arms, my lips buried in shaggy hair and he had the same reaction I did. "Oh!"

It was a first. Not the first time I've given them hugs and kisses goodnight. But, the first time that I was not the initiator. They wanted me. They sought my arms.

There is a sweetness to the repetition of new traditions, and a sweetness to the adventures into new frontiers of family-ness. It is the beauty of watching growing things, including my own ever expanding love.

...but she's ours!

We arrived home from our big weekend in Chicago with CB in tow, fresh from her stay with her Dad, his wife M and his whole family for a week. When I say fresh, I mean it the same way my mother used to say "Don't use that fresh tone with me, young lady." She's fresh, alright. Freshly spoilt. It's to be expected. But, dealing with it isn't a rose garden.

Getting your child back from their other parent is a double edged sword as with so many things in loving your child. On one hand you feel complete, an aching hole is filled, the world is brighter. On the other, your head feels like it is in a vice with the constant whining, jokes you don't find funny (but the child's other biological half clearly did) and the general exhaustion that can strike anytime, but seems to strike harder when you've had a week of peace and quiet.

I've done this before, so I know that my patience runs thin that first week, despite my joy at having my girl back. When my mother asked if she and my dad could take CB for the weekend right after she returned, I didn't hesitate with my "yes."

My sister KW decided to come out from Philly for an impromptu visit and take CB up to my parents' house for them, a day early. Monday night, sitting around the dinner table, I mentioned KW's visit and CB's subsequent departure. Much to my surprise, H got indignant. "So, CB is going away AGAIN?" he asked. I said yes. His voice went up two octaves and he said "But, we just got her back -and now she's going to leave again?!" I explained that my parents hadn't seen her at Christmas. He went on: "But, she's ours! She should be here with us, not going everywhere else!"

H's indignant response was music to my ears. So is the way he'll quietly take CB under his wing and teach her things, or the way he'll patiently play Candy Land with a two year old who has the attention span of a gnat because he sees the value of teaching her to love board games, knowing that it's an investment in years of beating her at chess. For my part, I think she'll give him a run for his money.

The Sporting Life

I have two sisters. This is important to know. In many ways, it defines who I am and my particular view of the world. As I watched CB with her two older companions, her almost- brothers, I think of how her experience will be different to mine.

We moved my mattress into our room. The old mattress was sent to the other side of the attic, where the boys live. When we did it, the boys were with K, so we left it on top of one of the beds for discussion upon their return. Rather than a spirited discussion about where the mattress should go (which is what I expected) instead, a new sport was invented - double bed on top of single bed wrestling.

It may also be known as "King/Queen of the Hill" or "Team Knock Off" or "Irresponsible Parenting Move No. 165,000." Yes, there were exposed corners on which any of them could have lost an eye. But, to be fair, so could we!

The wrestling commenced. CB was in it to win it. I'm happy to report that no one lost an eye, and everyone walked away with a wincing bruise. Just the way it should be.

Perhaps I am naturally lazy, or inclined to feminine forms of imaginative play (not that my sisters and I didn't wrestle plenty over the years) but I feel a sense of wonder for the freedom of rough and tumble and the diversion and unity of family board and card games. I was never a game player (being a habitual sore loser and tantrum thrower), but now I hear my own voice suggesting we play blackjack or agreeing happily to a round of Pente.

My boys have, with their six hands, dealt me another deck to play with. And, I feel like I've won the jackpot - even when I'm being mercilessly beaten by a seven-year-old.