My Little Firecracker

Last summer, I went to a psychic while in Salem, MA (when in Rome...) who described my oldest daughter as being "quite a little firecracker". She was right about that as well as many other things. I was thinking about that remark last night as Shawn and I were laying in bed watching a movie. Riley is staying with her Grandma and Pop and so was not home. The house seemed so still. Granted, it was 11:00 p.m. and ordinarily it probably would be still at that time. Lucy was asleep in her crib but there seemed to be an energy void.

It's almost like, on any given day, we live with a small weather system that bounces around the house, sometimes raining, sometimes sunny and clear, but always advancing. When she's gone, it is indescribably still, even with Lucy in the house. A sense of sanity washes over us as we are once more "in charge." That's not to say we have an out-of-control three-year old. Actually, being three means being out of control. It is very difficult to have anything go our way. Our little weather system is orbiting around one or all of us at anytime, bringing down showers; showers of love, destruction, entertainment, laughter, gleeful anarchy, and sometimes wisdom. But never is there a calm day. It's like living on the lakeshores of Chicago in March.

Now I know what Bill Cosby meant when he said that parents of only children weren't real parents (sorry Mom and Dad). With only one child to work with, you get a chance to catch your breath. You hold an obvious majority. Your attention is focused on that one child. When you add another one to the mix, you are constantly on guard. While teaching one child her ABC's, you must keep one ear on the other child in the kitchen. Lord knows, both of my girls have ended up doing something breathtakingly dangerous such as opening the dishwasher and sitting on the door holding steak knives in both hands.

With two children you never have that feeling that all you are responsible for is in your control. With two, you are constantly running your psychic radar and tuning in to the rhythms and sounds of the house, asking yourself, "Was that the cat? Or did someone just fall out of bed?" or "Is Shawn fixing dinner or is Riley using the oven as a basketball hoop?" And "Can I stop the bleeding on one child while administering a bottle to the other?" The worst is when one of the children is crying just to be dramatic and the other one begins crying in sympathy.

But the best part is when they are both piled on top of me, giggling and laughing. Or when they are playing together quietly, in the same room with each other. Or when one tries to teach something to the other or help the other one out. It really is quite lovely. So, while I treasure the break in the weather, I also miss it like I would miss my right hand. I worry when we get a break, that it will somehow dull our senses. Actually, the opposite seems to happen. With freshly rested troops, we are able to frollick in the sunshine and sandbag ourselves against the monsoon much more effectively. A good night sleep works miracles.