Auspicious start, I know.
If you happened to read my last column, you’ll know that we’ve been on quite a ride here on Oahu, with the Bear-who-wants-to-be-a-big-kid-so-darn-bad, and the twins regular levels of transition times two.
So, as we discussed, the bear is out of the crib. Dramatically. The last few nights have been on the rough side for her, (and us) as her ‘lil mattress has been stuck on the floor while we figured out what we wanted to do after she began spelunking from her earlier digs.
And again, another transition pushed forward, or course, not on our time but on theirs. As it should be, but the heart readies itself for things in its own time too. Mine wasn’t quite. And so they grow…
A bold move we made today, but not without setting the table-this time anyway. The wife, ever the smart one in this equation, started in with the twins about moving to their own “real big kid” beds in the last few days. The wife was also the one who thought it wise to have the government move these beds that no one was using at the time from Jersey to Oahu in the first place, I imagine, nay, have been told, for just such an occasion.
Pardon me for marrying up.
So, the twins popped on the idea. And off to the races we went.
The girl got a nice headboard from her Great-Grandma’s house that her Aunt used to use when she visited upstate New York as a kid. It had been saved “for her,” and she liked that. When one is a twin, such things matter.
The Boyo got his Daddy’s old headboard and footer, complete with sideboards and all the accoutrements. It was the only bed that I ever remember in my room at my parents’ from the age of whenever I started remembering until I moved out, and then it was saved, and I brought it here.
As I put it together, I could remember a lot of moments, like when I was sick as a kid, and the cat would come and sleep at the top of the bed, where there are little cubbies in the headboard, and he would slink in and out of them until he was comfortable, and nuzzling my head. I remember the first time the bed was moved from the wall perpendicular to the window to the wall parallel to the window. It was traumatic, and no further attempts were made to move it again. But it was better after the move. Eventually.
I remember a period when, for some reason, I slept very badly in my early teens, and kept waking up in-between the wall and the bed. Those side runners really earned their keep…I never hit the floor.
As with most young people growing up, my room was my sanctuary, and having no other furniture of note, that bed was my throne. I wrote the Eulogy to my Father while sitting on this bed, often looking out the window, that day, as I talked to friends who tried to say the right thing and I loved them for it.
I wrote my first song sitting on that bed, the lyrics of which I shall not be sharing in this space, on a crapulent guitar I found in the back of the prop room at school, and paid the teacher $5 to take home, with a promise of another $5 the next day. Still owe for that, but it was never brought up again. To me then, sitting on that bed, with that horrendous guitar, it opened a world up to me that meant a whole lot down the line. I played that one until I got to college, and then bought another, and then another, and it was a part of my life, and each time I went home, I played them all from the same spot, on the same bed. And a lot of songs were written there. And, though there have been no real genuine calls for a new album…there were a lot of great nights, playing music, in front of fun people, that all started, playing that $5 but I owe $5 guitar.
A young lady I went to high school with wrote a great poem in one of our yearbooks that I have remembered to this day. It was about “her room.” I could go upstairs and read it verbatim and wax poetic, but I remember her using the motif of the room starting as a girls room, and later becoming that of a young woman…and my oldest girl is all about the Princesses and such now, and that is her room. “My room. It started out like that” I remember my classmate writing. It’s odd the things you remember in moments like this, but I’m glad to remember that poem. It was over twenty year ago that she wrote it, but I remember it, and it has made an impact on my writing. I don’t know if she’s still writing, but that was a damned good piece, in my opinion. Better than anything I wrote or remember reading by most anyone else when we were in school.
I digress again, and now, that bed of mine is the boyo’s. I’m grateful that my mom saved it. It’s a quality piece of furniture, from New Hampshire (Oddly ironic) and just really solid. It’s not a ton to look at, unless one enjoys utilitarian NH furniture, but who doesn’t? But overall, today, when I was done setting it up in my son’s room, it was a truly surreal moment. To be here, all the way out here, in the middle of the Pacific, and Ocean I never bothered with until now….to see my old bed in my boyo’s room…it was something.
He was all cranked up. He and his sisters took turns jumping on his new bed, and then they ran into the bear’s room, and they jumped on her new bed (which was in her sister’s room mere moments before….) and then to the girl’s room, and jumped on her bed, and they were all so proud to take ownership. The rooms had once again become a statement about who they are and where they are going.
And so, I started putting dinner together, and plugged in the Ipod to play some music, and what song just happens to pop up?
OK-you read the title-if you’re from the NJ, Philly, NY area…you get a moment to think…
OK-Philly’s own Hooters pop up on my Ipod, in the midst of this moment, and what song is it? Is it their big hit “And We Danced?” No. Is it the follow-up hit “Day by Day?” Nope. Is it even the infamous “Don’t take my Car out Tonight,” or later hits like “Karla with a K,” or “Amore?”
Nope. Of course, with the great Spin-Master in the sky, perhaps aided by the late Isaac Hayes, or perhaps even by the later Jam Master Jay, spinning from the spirit, the song that pops on, in this moment, where I am doing my darndest to manage the sudden and rapid growth of my kids, is, of course…
“Where Do the Children Go?”
It wasn’t a huge hit for The Hooters, though I still think it’s their best song. “Nervous Night” is a great album, but that one, in my opinion, is the best song. I used it is as soundtrack/background in a few plays I produced back in the old SKS days.
But that’s the song that hits. What are the odds? Well, I’ve got 900 songs on my Ipod. Math was never my thing, so, best of luck smartys.
It was really something seeing them not only excited about their new big kid beds, but also to simply experience the visual of these beds in their rooms, that very well might be what they have in their rooms until they go to college, or whatever. It was a moment that really gave me a rather circuitous vision of my role as their parent. Especially in light of that fact that that is my full time job now. It’s what I do.
Whether I want them to or not, they are growing up. And of course, I want them to grow up. It would be silly not to, and they are certainly doing so, and developing, and making friends outside the home and, as they must; moving away from me. It is inevitable, I know, and my hope is that I do a good enough job that though they may be ready to move on with their lives when they are grown, they still feel a connection to the family life that the wife and I, an dour families, are working to create. The twins, and their sister will always be siblings. I hope they do a good job with that. I hope that I’m able to impart in them how important family is, and that no matter what happens, no matter what demons we face in this life, or how far we may travel, that we should be able to talk to and reach out to our family. I hope I will teach them that.
I hope they grow to be good people.
As I tucked in the girl tonight, she was chatty, as she always is. She didn’t become the “littlest houseguest” by not being overly conversational. Where o’ where did she get that, I wonder?
But, as I tucked her in, we talked about the transition to her new bed, and how she, as she said “will be soooo big to touch the ceiling!” Now I’m 6’3” and the wife is 5’ 10”. They went through three loaves of bread and peanut butter like you would not believe.
I told her not to grow up too fast…to which she said, with brow furrowed, “Daddy-I’m not a grown-up yet.” and hugged me without request.
Man did I pop on that. I could have lost it in that moment, but I held on, as I did to her. I kissed her good night, and her doggie too.
“Pinky Dog is a big kid too, Daddy,” she said, as I gave Pinky her goodnight kiss. I told her that I was proud of her, and her brother and sister for growing up strong and healthy.
And I am.
They all went to bed pretty much without incident this evening. Even the little bear…first night in a big kid bed, with a big kid bed frame…and she’s asleep. It’s good stuff. They are happy.
When it’s good, it’s great, and when it’s hard, it’s good, but it’s the only job I’ve ever wanted to be good at.
It is the only job I have ever wanted to be good at.
It is honestly harder than anything I have ever done. But I’m there. It is the only job that I have ever aspired to.
I won’t get my performance evaluation until later, but I hope its good.
I blinked, and so they grew, again.
No comments:
Post a Comment