The Calm After the Storm

Some days, bedtime cannot come fast enough. The constant battle that rages between my children and I over why it’s not a good idea to climb on furniture, tackle each other, throw things, run full speed towards each other, etc. becomes unnerving. But, even on the worst days, I always miss them after they go to sleep.

The silence unfolds uncomfortably across the entire house, and all that can be heard is the rhythmic sounds of the rain setting of the white noise machine. Of course baby boy will wake up in an hour or so, seemingly the lightest sleeper of the bunch.

But the girls, they have been concurrently sleeping through the night for over a year now. Of course there is always some sort of pre-falling asleep chit chat, or sometimes raucous laughter or screaming out each others’ names, warnings about things falling out of cribs such as the occasional bear or baby doll, or other strange catchphrases (e.g. Happy Birfday!, Super Duper! To the rescue! etc.-as an aside, today they were calling each other “grandmother” and alternating tending to each others’ imaginary wounds or other issues-)

So aside from that post-story chatter, unless someone is really sick or going through some sort of mental development, or perhaps having a bad dream (or if they wakeup to notice that a baby or bear has in fact fallen out of their crib), then they sleep through the night. The only noises emanating from their room being the oscillating heater that turns on when it drops below a certain temperature. As I sit in the living room starting in on my “real” work for the day, after I step over countless toys strewn about, gaze upon the baby dolls, books, things set aside for “tomorrow,” I sometimes wish that they were just taking a few hour nap, like they used to when they were younger, so that they would soon be waking up to play.

Obviously, I realize that I will in fact be setting off to bed at that time, and having kids waking up rested and ready to play would not work, it still sometimes indulgent to think about. In addition to that, all the baby dolls all over the room kind of freak me out. It’s only when the girls are carrying them around, clutching them in their arms, that I feel certain the dolls will not turn against me. (It might be because I saw this film, or something like it as a child, and have been skeptical ever since.–This film, by the way, was playing on a big screen in the club where they had our first “bar review” social gathering after completing the first week of law school. Coincidence? I think not.)

So, eventhough I know that they need their sleep, and we all generally need our rest apart, I still miss them. My little doll sheppards.

What sort of motivated me to write this post, in addition to a chance encounter with one of said baby dolls, was something my grandfather said to me today. We try to visit them every week or so, my grandmother (the kids’ great grand mother) will turn 80 next week, and my grandfather (their great grandfather) will be 77. Anyway, as we were leaving, he said something to the effect of, “man I wish I was in her shoes!” Being the sarcastic person he is, I wasn’t sure if he meant Isabelle, Maya, or I, so I asked him who, and he responded me. Usually he says things like, “better you than me” when I’m leaving with the tired and cranky girls :), so I’m not sure how to interpret what he said next, but he said “you are around non-stop excitement all day long 7-24!” And you know what, it’s true, unless of course, they are sleeping 🙂

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