They look at me with all the emotions kids have for their moms: embarrassment, exasperation, bemusement, impatience. Yep, they've given me the Eyeball Roll-Up, the Evil Stare Down, the You're Invisible! Blank Glance and my favorite, the Oh, Are You Still Here? Eyebrow Raise. Little do they know I perfected each and every one of those facial expressions eons ago and could even give them a few pointers, should they just ask. They don't know what a master I was at torturing parents, especially the soft-hearted variety.
The other side of growing up is there, too. Not long before Christmas I wanted to attend a reading at our church. It was held at night and had all the appeal, to children, of a midnight dental cleaning. There was some protesting but I held fast and bundled them up in the car. The reading was dramatic, the church lit only by candles, and it didn't take long before both children were stretched out in the pew, heads resting in my lap, asleep. That was the first taste of Christmas for me, I think, attending an Advent reading with reluctant children who only came because they loved me. Warm love was what I felt surround me as I rested a hand on each child with the evening chill setting in. Yes, they are growing up and learning to do more than receive love.
Right now I'm typing in bed for no other reason than it is late and the heater is near. Both kids have found their way into the bed and are sound asleep. Again. Feel my power: I am She Who Induces Sleep! There are days when our home can pass for The House of Yell and Bark (and I just know the neighbors must wonder what we shout about all the time) but today wasn't one of them. Today we spent a rainy Sunday together. Mass (one doughnut each, which Danny prayed for when we drove up to a new church and didn't know if it was on the menu); a family stop at
Peet's for lattes and cocoa (separate tables, please!); and a day ensconced at home, safe from the rain.
We live in the golden land of potential devastation, one rumble away from what Haiti is enduring. We send our prayers across the miles of land and water, earnestly wanting to end the grief and pain. This week the 10-year-old is involved in a school fundraising drive, learning about offering support to those who need it most. And I think, right now, these two sleeping children beside me need the peace they have found. Tomorrow we will try to save the world, get straight As and see how far the parents can be pushed without suffering the consequences.
