In praise of childhood

Every so often, the reality of how much my kids depend on Glen and me for so much of their happiness and well being hits me right between the eyes (or, upside the head, to be more descriptive). Of course, we parents understand that we're responsible for our kids' nutrition, shelter, clothing, and education. But sometimes I am completely blown away by the knowledge that David and Elizabeth turn to Glen and me for more subtle and less tangible things, such as giggles, praise, love, encouragement, and an overall sense of happiness. That two little people look up to, count on, and trust completely in Glen and me is nothing short of humbling.

Thoughts such as these have dawned on me many times over the past several days while the kids and I have enjoyed some very high-level, hands-on family time while Glen is home during this holiday break. We've been spoiled silly by having daddy home. I can once again turn to my better half to check out the reasons for which the dogs begin randomly barking in the middle of the night. David has a Wii Star Wars Lego buddy to play with. Elizabeth has the one man wrapped fully and completely around her little finger at her disposal. And, being together for the Christmas and New Year holidays has afforded us with many opportunities to see just how special and magical this time of year is to children, and how lucky we are to be able to give David and Elizabeth the nice little life we have.

Take, for example, Christmas morning. It came as no surprise to anyone that David was wide awake at 7:00 a.m., and ready to tackle presents. He bounded into our bedroom and flopped upon our bed in a chipper wake-up call. The sun was shining in the windows, and the house seemed to have just a bit more sparkle to it. The three of us went to get Elizabeth, who was not quite as enthusiastic about interrupting her beauty sleep for presents. "Ten more minutes," she asked. "I'm sleepy!"

We talked her into coming downstairs to see what Santa brought. David was beside himself with excitement. Elizabeth took a few minutes to wake up.

Once Elizabeth came to, the kids dove into their Christmas treasures. The first box that David opened was the Lego Imperial Flag Ship set that he'd been coveting for some time. What you can't quite see in this following picture is just how much David's jaw had dropped to the floor.

Giggles and silliness ensued. Hugs were shared. Delighted squeals could be heard throughout the house, and not just because Spike and Lager had each received a huge raw hide bone from Santa Paws.

 

David surprised his little sister with a Barbie doll he picked out on his very own; the look on her sweet face, knowing that her brother had chosen a special treat for her, was absolutely priceless. And the look on David's face, knowing he'd made Elizabeth so happy, was just as wonderful. See hug below.

We are so, so very lucky that the magic of Christmas continued throughout the day as the kids enjoyed some unstructured play time at home prior to leaving for my mom's house for dinner. Simply being able to give your kids the laid-back pleasure of staying in jammies as long as possible is a delicious treat in itself, and one that every kid should be able to enjoy now and then.

Another example of parental awe: how happy something as simple as a trip to the local park can make two kids. David and Elizabeth were getting slightly, yet understandably, stir crazy in the house today, and after lunch they were ready for a an outing. I proposed the park. We negotiated as to whether to walk or drive, and driving won out. The three of us piled into the car, leaving Glen behind to do some real work as he is, in fact, working from home this week.

Upon our arrival, they rolled out of the car and ran full-throttle toward the jungle gym. Steps and miniature climbing walls and slides and make-believe pirate ships were enough to get their imaginations and giggles flowing.

 The only thing that surprised me was that David suggested that we head back home after only 10-15 minutes. "No way!" I said. "We just got here! This is the perfect time for you guys to run and scream and skip and play and get your sillies out!" Plus, I wanted some unhurried time to simply sit back and watch my kids be kids.

The next thing we knew, 45 minutes had flown by, and my cherubs were requesting a snack. A trip to Some Crust Bakery in Claremont for their legendary dark chocolate chip cookies fit the bill nicely; that is, once we found a parking space in the Claremont Village.

My final example of today's lessons in humility came just about an hour ago, when I heard Elizabeth calling "Mommy!" softly from her room. She wasn't yelling or sounding frantic, but rather seemed to be calling out to see where I was. I tip-toed into her room quietly and said, "you okay, sweetie?"

She nodded her little head. "I just want mommy," she said, reaching out her little hand.

I walked over to her bed and stroked her hair, at which time I noticed that she felt incredibly warm. This was beginning to explain why she was declaring herself so tired at dinnertime, and didn't argue when I recommended a bath, jammies, and bed at 7:00 this evening.

"Oh, sweetie! You're warm! Would you like a little Tylenol?" I asked.

Usually, at this point in conversations such as these, she balks. But tonight, she softly nodded her head. I measured out a teaspoon full, and she knocked it back like a pro. Then she requested that I snuggle with her. I proposed that I first get my own jammies on. "Okay," she said so sweetly.

I rushed through my evening routine, and got back to her room ASAP. She was still awake. Knowing that fluids would be a good idea, I offered her a sippy cup of apple juice, to which she replied, "yes, please, Mommy." I melted. She had me at "Yes, please."

With glass in hand, I returned to her pink room and she took a few hearty sips. Then she motioned for me to join her. I snuggled next to her, and felt her little hand wrap around my neck and her head tuck onto my shoulder as she cuddled in closer. "I'm scared," she said.

"What are you scared of?"

She paused with just a hint of drama. "Monsters," she said emphatically.

"But there are no monsters on the second floor. Do you know why?" I asked. She shook her head.

"Because to get up here they'd first have to come in the house from downstairs and then Spike and Lager would eat them before they got to your room!"

"No," she explained logically, "the police would get them first!"

"You know, you're right," I replied. "So I think with both levels of security, we're pretty safe here."

"I love you, Mommy," she sighed. She began patting my back softly. I melted some more.

I nuzzled my face into her hair, noting that she still felt toasty. We lay together in a safe snuggle, enjoying a few quiet moments. I suggested to her that I go to bed soon, and she tightened her grip on me slightly, saying "I just want you to stay here."

And it was in these few, gentle moments when I was once again dumbstruck by how much my little ones count on me (and their daddy, of course) for safety, comfort, and love. That they voluntarily see us as "go to guys" for such assurances amazing. The realization that they have such trust and faith in us is daunting, yet empowering. Moments such as these, of course, leave me wondering whether I have really earned this degree of trust and faith. Am I really such an important part of their lives that I can or should be counted on to this extent? Me? Really? I'm not worthy.

Moments such as these also remind me, too, of just how fiercely I love David and Elizabeth, how I hope to always be worthy of their love and trust and respect, and how I need to remind myself to cherish these days while they are still small.