In retrospect...

Life with children is so often in-the-moment that it is hard to get some perspective on it all. I imagine it's because the children themselves live so much in the here and now. Their pasts seem to be so obscure to them, and their futures are utterly unimaginable, past suppertime.

Living in the moment can be a great blessing. Especially for someone like me, someone who constantly obsesses about what's going to happen next, what our plans are for next week, next month, next century... if we live that long ('cause you never know, you know). I have a zillion maps in my head, all charting out our paths, with different courses, all depending on what happens next...

So living now is good for me. Only, I end up falling into another trap. When Maïa screams at her sister or hits her, I (vaguely) imagine her doing it forever, as though as a thirty-year-old she would lash out in such a way. I often find it impossible to take a moment and think that perhaps things will change. That perhaps we will, at some point, not have a nearly-four-year-old and a nearly-two-year-old. That in fact, we will one day have a ten-year-old and an eight-year-old... and tons of other combinations that I won't bore you with. Indeed, one day, if we keep on reminding her that it's not okay to do X, she will know it (whether or not she continues to do it is another matter altogether). I am learning, however. So I try to see the funny things...

Derek and I went out for dinner at some friends' place. We had our regular sitter come over and look after the girls. It was the first time that she was responsible for putting both children to bed all on her own. We thought it would be all right...

When we got home, our fifteen-year-old sitter Megan told us about Maïa convincing her that we let her sleep with Solanne in her crib. There was much moving around (and jumping, I assume) in the little crib. Finally, after trying to settle them both into the crib without success, Megan took Maïa out. There was another story about bringing certain toys to bed (none are allowed save Clicky). And another story about taking a suce (she hasn't had one since she was 18 months). And another about a drink of water from a cup, which had to be left by her bedside in case she needed it because she was coughing and Mummy and Daddy always give her water when she's coughing because it makes the tickle go away... And, in the light of day, there were the toys and books strewn about the floor of the bedroom, the lost suce, the spilled water, the messed up crib, and the very, very, very tired children. I was not happy.

Yet in retrospect, it's pretty funny. I have to chuckle when I think of it. A little perspective goes a long way.