Children

Yesterday, the Hubby and I visited Celogo, Convivial Dingo, and their family who live only over an hour away but seemingly a world away. From the Metroplex to rural Texas in over an hour — even with a full moon out, I saw more stars there than I saw in a new moon night in the Metroplex.

Celogo and CD have five children: a precocious eight-year old little girl, two boisterous boys (six and two), and the three-month-old fraternal twins (a boy and a girl). The Hubby and I have no kids, and I am in awe of Celogo and CD, raising their five children. Their home is loud but, more importantly, filled with love.

I spent the better part of the afternoon in the eight-year-old’s bedroom, playing a game of Monopoly. I remember being eight, a girl, and the oldest of siblings. I remember wanting attention and feeling both proud and jealous of my youngest siblings when they were brand new babies. She reminded me a lot like me when I was her age, and I remember hating being patronized by grown-ups. So she hosted me, showing me her room while the Monopoly game was our foundational activity. She gave me a little plastic purple heart, a purple crystal, a pretty rock, and a aluminum-made-to-look-like-gold hook from a broken necklace. I gave her non-patronizing questions and funny faces in return. She would accidentally give me tips on how to win at Monopoly, cover her mouth with both hands in surprise, and giggled. Oh, and she won, by the way. ::grin:: And afterwards, she showed me how to knit (and I thanked her for being a great teacher). She didn’t want to take her bedtime bath because she was afraid I’d be gone when she was done. I promised her I’d still be there, and I was.

The boys were running around, like ferrets on sugar and caffeine, moving like tornadoes in the house and then outside.

I held one of the babies — the boy — while the Hubby held the girl. He was warm and heavy, and smelled like only a baby smells. While his mommy cleared the dinner table, I hiosted him up when he fussed and swayed back and forth like how my mom showed me when I was seven years old, when my youngest sister was born. It’s like riding a bike — you never forget.

When the kids were in bed, we grownups could finally have grownup visiting time. The things that become important as we grow older come into focus during life-changing events, like marriage, like a deadly illness, like children.

Under a full moon, with a house filled with sleeping children, one becomes aware one is put on this earth for a purpose, to leave the world a better place somehow. Seeing Celogo and CD with their kids, I believe they are well on their way.

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About lizardqueen

If single-mothering were a paid job, I'd be rich. However, it doesn't, so I write (which doesn't pay the bills) and teach (which does). I'm overly-educated in the liberal arts, but that doesn't hinder my ability to be pragmatic and realistic. YAY.
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