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The little ones woke after longish, peaceful naps, and because they’d missed their baths the night before, I herded them directly into the tub.
During this one occasion, they stripped down without a fuss. They presented me with chubby little body parts to be washed on demand. They even splashed in a controlled manner.
As I watched them in the tub, things were calm enough that I could actually see their faces (as opposed to blond blurs of frantic activity). It had been a while since I’d truly looked at them; it amazes me how very much the boy looks like his father and the girl looks like her mother.
The boy’s resemblance is striking, but it’s absolutely eerie how much the girl favors her mother. She has her mother’s exact expressions, which seems unbelievable considering how little time they’ve spent face to face. How is it possible that she learned to move her eyebrows in the same way as her mother? How can she replicate so precisely the scorn of her mother’s emphatic “No!”?
Bath time over, they scooted downstairs with significantly less than the usual fuss. I set them and the eldest child up with snacks (nobody argued about my choices!) and got down to the business of fixing supper.
It was a night that the stb-ex would be coming over to spend time with the children, and it’s become my habit to fix a nice dinner for us to share on those nights. My mother is horrified that I cook dinner for him or that I’m even civil at all to him.
It’s usual for dinner preparations to be interrupted numerous times with shrieking requests to settle a dispute over who is the rightful owner of a toy that hadn’t seen daylight in six months until one person laid tiny grubby hands on it, at which time it transmogrified into the most precious thing ever.
But this dinner I was able to assemble in thirty minutes flat, without even the cat demanding attention. No one even spoke to me, not even when I had raw chicken on my hands, which usually prompts the most plaintive requests for immediate assistance.
Dinner was prepared so quickly and easily that I had time (not to mention mental energy) left over for a few rounds of “Itsy Bitsy Spider” before the stb-ex arrived home. This song is new to the little ones; they watched me make the spider climb as if my simple hand motions held the secrets of the universe.
See, it’s not all missed medication, dying cats and existential angst around here.
Ah, yes… the golden years of babies. I sort of miss those. The only time I really see my progeny is when the have a need for me to make some purchase or other or simply want cash. Else wise they are holed up in the deep recesses of our house, churning out teen angst by the bucket. Cherish these “Itsy Bitsy Spider” moments while you can, because I was Itsy Bitsy one day and a “no, the brake pedal is NOT an option in a sharp turn” driving instructor the next.
Family is fun, isn’t it…well, when it is when it isn’t eating away at your resistance to Lithium.
DaNewb
one of the loveliest divorces i’d ever heard of they shared apartments of a house. each kid had a room in one of the apartments and the doors were open to either kid at all times…
i’ve also heard about people that swap a house and a one bedroom apartment.
it seems to me you make your own rules and yours are the sane kind that set good examples for your children. go you anyway
even though it is a bit questionable to be cooking dinner for the stb-ex, i think you’re doing a great thing. one of the hardest things when my parents got divorced was that all of a sudden i never saw them together. it was as if they lived in separate worlds. this caused me lots of problems for a while (when i’d be on good terms with one, i’d subconsciously get angry at the other). the first time i saw them in the same room i started crying. it’s great that even though you probably would rather go without spending time around him, you’re willing to for the sake of the kids.
I suppose as a fairly new reader, I’m confused as to why the girl doesn’t get to spend time with her mother. Aren’t you her biological mother? I haven’t been around long enough to pick up these interesting facts. And there’s an older child around somewhere too, right? Are these younger ones twins?
:)
Those family moments are so precious, what a wonderful time. It’s also really nice that you’re recognizing them- sometimes, although I love all of our kids, I think that by having them so young I might have missed some things, simply because my own lack of experience didn’t clue me in on how wonderful different moments really are.
I think it’s great that you make things as easy as you can for them, as well. That must take a lot of strength, but it’s really cool.
Hi AAG,
Since I’ve been riding you here lately– and not in a good way, I thought I’d just say that cooking dinner for your ex is definitely civilized and NOT co-dependent.
Hang in there.
XOXO
Chuck
It is hours like that that keep me sane.
I agree with Kamo – i think it is great for the children to see you sharing a meal together.
Itsy bitsy makes our cherubs eyes sparkle with delight, but the one that really fascinates her is “The Wheels on The Bus Go Round & Round.”
It’s those days that make getting out of bed worthwhile.
Dear Sarah–Might I suggest a trip through the archives? I rarely spell things out. You gotta work a little ’round these parts.
Chuck–Ah, a vote for NON-co-dependence. Thank you very much!
Good for you for making nice with the STB-Ex. It makes everyone’s lives happier and less stressful.
One thing though: it’s not HIS home anymore, is it? He’s coming over, not coming home.
I’m just sayin’.
AAG, In my house, that time before dinner is normally called the “arsenic hours” but whether the poison if for me or for them, I can’t remember. The times when the circus doesn’t arrive at 5pm are certainly golden.
Enjoy it whenever it happens. Then try and remember it when the chaos reigns.
Isn’t it nice when they behave so well…the days where mine act nice are few and far between.
Glad to hear that the planets do align sometimes!!
For some reason that reminded me of when I was doing my neonatal hours in college. And when the newborns would take that huge green shit (I can’t think of the medical term right now) from all the amneonic fluid they had swallowed, there was a big sink with a high faucet. They’d just set the water temp just right and hose the little buggars down. *chuckle*
Meconium.
Ew!