Routine is one of those things that I love because it is regular and brings with it a sense of control. At times that same sense of control bogs me down and fills me with an overwhelming desire for adventure. I know you are scratching your head thinking this woman is as wishy washy as the day is long. Make up your mind. Well, I am a woman after all and it therefore is my prerogative to change my mind, which I do often.
The crib was made by Pat's sister and husband for Pat's brother's two girls...
then loaned to us in 2007 when Devi came home & used again for Trey
This occasional adventurous spirit is why I recently shook things up by taking down the crib in the girls’ room, replacing it with a big girl bed for Treya. In truth, she now sleeps on a twin sized mattress and box spring, with protective metal rails that run up both sides, all of which is pushed up against the wall....a glorified crib really, but to her she is a big girl doing yet another grown up thing like her big sister. As much as the crib contained her restless sleeping habits, and protected her from falls during the night, fumbling to maneuver her wide and rigid bottom half still restrained in corrective boots connected by a metal bar, the crib also had begun to get rather cramped as she has grown so much in the last few months, leaving only a tiny margin around her on all sides. She had begun to look like she was squeezed into a shoebox. It was time for the crib to go...sniff.
Into our second week of the new arrangement, the girls now see eye to eye across the small spanse created by the night stand that separates their beds. They quietly chat until they drift off to sleep every night, though Treya has a hard time understanding the concept of “whispering”! I love to stand just outside of their cracked door and listen to their adventures, their incessant giggles as they exchange stuffed animals, their nonsense songs, their consoling comments, and the shifting of their bodies as they slowly relax, finding comfort wrapped in their matching bedding until finally giving up the day. It was just that easy of a transition for Treya right from the start.
The next adventure came this past weekend as I had accepted an invitation to attend a weekend conference with friends in a city several hours away, requiring overnight hotel stay. The first time I would be apart from either girl for more than just a few hours...gulp. Honestly, my daily routine had gotten the better of me - the cold wet weather, my work, the girls’ schedules, preparing meals, the house chores - and I was really looking forward to getting away for two nights with no spouse, no children, just me.
As my departure date grew closer; however, I was filled with an overwhelming feeling of dread. I didn’t want to go. Surely, Pat was more than capable of caring for the girls, but when you think that once born you only have something like 920 weekends with your children before they go off to college, Devi all ready using up 260 of those weekends by the time she turned 5...I just didn’t want to miss even one! Suddenly, I just wanted routine and not adventure.
Somewhere along my travels, I came across Indian scrolls. Nothing more than hand made paper wrapped around two wooden dowels, rolled and tied with tasseled string and adorned with bells. The attached card mentioned that in ancient times, this is how Princes talked to Princesses in India. Love notes if you will. Okay, I am a sap for stuff like this and I knew the girls would be too. So I wrote each of them a love note to find in the morning after I had left to east the sadness of my departure. A keepsake that they could pull out whenever they were missing me, letting them know that no matter where we are, my love would always be with them.
Yep, bawled like a baby the whole time I wrote them. Like a baby! Just imagining how it feels to be hugged by Devi, where every inch of her tiny body molds to yours and you can feel the incredible warmth of her body warm yours, as she smothers you in tender kisses, had me missing her immensely. She fits into my arms perfectly. And the thought of missing even one morning or nap time of Treya attempting to shake off the last bits of sleep, rubbing her squinty tired eyes back and forth across my shoulder while clinging to my waist with the tight hold of her legs or quietly sitting in my lap, holding my big hands with her tiny ones, occasionally pulling my hand up to stroke the rose petal softness of her cheek and then mimic the gesture with her scarred hand on my aged skin. These thoughts make me weak. So that is what I wrote about, more therapeutic to me than them, I am certain.
Miss them? Oh yes. Now home, with the “first time away” box successfully checked, I am once again rejuvenated, filled up by their hugs and caresses, received when I arrived home. Devi leapt into my lap for snuggles and Treya looked up from her nap to find me standing over her bed. She demanded in a sleepy voice "Hug me!" in her own bossy way. It appears that they missed me a little too. Normally one who would throw my hands up in the air on that roller coaster of life, dismissing the thought of holding the security bar, so as to fully feel the thrill of the ride, I am quite content to return to the mundane routine of my daily life for a while.
And what will be my next adventure, you ask? I hoped none would come for a while, but glancing through the pile of mail upon my return, I found a letter. A letter announcing elementary school Open Houses are this week. It is time to choose and enroll Devi for kindergarten! Tissues please.