Calm in the Storm

I re-learned how to enjoy the kids. It's been Christmas vacation. For like, decades, already - so long, the tree is already dead (but still looks twinkly). It took about two weeks of adjustment agony, the kids being home, wanting to do something every minute, wanting to eat something every other minute - Nathan actually vibrates in place and I have to keep telling myself he's only eight, he's only eight, fart noises and not being able to sit still are actually a good sign -- but today, a regular Saturday, when the world outside looked big and empty, we didn't have to be anywhere or see anyone, Barry was sick in bed with the consumption or whatever he's got that lasts two weeks and slowly kills off the weak in British period movies. There weren't presents to open. There wasn't food to buy. There weren't chores to do. There was suddenly all this expanse of free. Free time. Emptiness. The kids and I waded out into it, me and the three kids. I have three actual kids, I kept thinking. Well, we didn't wade out into the freedom until after breakfast, where the baby (who has been sick) took some Tylenol and then sat lethargically in her high chair and then threw up (the Fountain of Youth). Nathan and Emma took the DS game and compassionately hid under the counter in case she decided to throw up again. But then the baby devoured two pancakes and several strawberries, and we went outside and that's when we discovered we had the whole world to ourselves today. Everyone's been sick this vacation, as always happens, and maybe having a weakened constitution has helped me to give up and just hang out with the kids and actually enjoy them, like I used to. We went to the thrift store and poked around. We went home and fixed up the bunny area in the barn, well I did while the kids played Pirates in the pirate ship, with Emma on the trampoline with binoculars. I watched as I worked, and I listened to them, and we were outside on the high grass seas. The baby took a killer nap, and the kids drew a chalk roadway out on the cement in the backyard and took turns crashing into each other on their bikes. Then we went to McDonald's where Emma ate three hamburgers and they played and screamed happily and I had all the Diet Coke I wanted to drink. Then we crammed in the bath and then we read some Judy Blume, and then they fell asleep, a little later than usual, in my big bed, Emma on the left, Nathan on the right and Lilly sacked out on my chest. This is where I feel most full, and content, with all of them snuggled up - I can feel the weight of the life I am haplessly leading. I can feel the glory of it. The only thing Barry and I have done that makes any sense are these three kids - demanding, busy, funny, quick, smart, beautiful, hungry - when I tune into them instead of just trying to run away from them, instead of feeling turbulent, it's like being out fishing on a still lake. When I join them, we glide. This life is shooting by at a zillion miles an hour, and grabbing it is impossible. Emma's tooth fell out yesterday. She looks like she's ready for college. I don't know where I've been, but I know when I'm back. I'm back in the boat. We're still afloat, it's all laid out like a picnic and there's actual laughter.