I left work on Friday in search of both. Peter was headed out of town, so no go there. I put in a couple last minute pleas to mom friends, but to no avail. Planning ahead has a purpose I suppose.
So it was me and the kids. Correction: Me, a glass of wine, and the kids. 50% isn't bad. And undoubtedly, the conversation was certainly disconnected from my workday experiences. It strayed from Woody and Buzz, to Baby Lion (Mary's alter ego) and Baby Dragon (Mary's alter alter ego.) There was bartering over chocolate. I entertained airplane rides, raspberries and attacks of the Mommy Giant. There was 'No Bobby' don't climb up the steps, 'No Bobby' don't eat that and 'NO BOBBY' stop pulling that electrical cord! There was fifteen more minutes, then ten, five, and bedtime everyone. (Including Mommy.)
We headed upstairs and as I was sitting in Bobby's room, nursing him to sleep, I heard Mary pick up the toy remote in her room, hold it to her ear and push buttons as if she was calling someone.
'Hi Daddy. I miss you,' she began.
There was a pause.
'No I gotta stay home. It's real late. The sun went night night. Camille's coming over (Correction: tomorrow). Joe's at his house. Nana, Opa are in Pittsburgh.'
Another pause.
'I know. You're hunting ducks. Ew.'
Pause.
'Mommy's here. She's feeding Bobby with her milks. She was in Arkansas. (Correction: New Mexico.) Ew. She got me new undies. They're FROZEN!'
Pause.
I was mad today. I am a tough kid. I had a fight. Cause I was mad. She took my party shoes. They're my favorite. Mommy's gonna read me stories. Clifford. And then Me and My Dad! That's my favorite.'
Pause.
'I love you. (smack).'
Lulled to sleep with a full tummy, I put Bobby in his crib and made my way into Mary's bed.
Were you calling Daddy, honey?
Yeah.
Why were you mad today?
Because.
Who said you were a tough kid?
Eva.
Who said you were a tough kid?
Eva.
Why did she say that?
Cause I got into a fight. Cause Lilian took my party shoes.
Cause I got into a fight. Cause Lilian took my party shoes.
Oh. You didn't hit her or anything, right?
No, I was just mad. She gave them back.
Okay. I love you honey. (I gave her a big hug and started on the stack of books she had laid out.)
I love you too, Mamma.
From all the business I digested throughout this work week, I felt I went to bed the past two nights a little smarter not because of anything I had solved in my cubicle, but because of the things my kids shared with me.
I heard Mary say that she was mad or frustrated a couple times this weekend. Mad that Bobby had her Memory cards in his mouth. Those are mine, Bobby! Frustrated that she couldn't get her shoes onto her feet. It won't work, Momma! I felt her pain; I sensed the emotion this week as well. With each outburst of angst though, I went over and talked her through it, made it better, loved it out.
In thinking and praying on the events in Paris on Friday, it made me think about the root of anger. The strength of that emotion even in a child as old as Mary. How just being there for someone, listening to them, guiding them, preventing something from festering, can make all the difference. It made me think about love. The smothering hugs and kisses I give to my kids every day. The reflection of it in Mary's return embrace, Bobby's smile, and Peter's texts from the Duck Shack.
On this beautiful fall Sunday afternoon, I'm still shaken, heartbroken, and scared of the pure madness that exists around the world today. Anger that could only exist in a vacuum of love. I feel helpless in a way; disposed to whatever greater forces can help keep me and my family safe. But despite that, I know that the most important thing I can do, is keep on sharing my love.
My hearts and prayers go out to Paris; the victims of Friday's agonizing terror and bloodshed; and all the families and friends that find themselves in utter grief today. I hope that in the beautiful city of light and love, a city that I have fallen in love with repeatedly, people can continue to let their hearts shine.
Lo.
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