Quiet

I had every intention of blogging daily when I started this blog. I guess my good intentions could only carry me through the first day.

I am sitting here in a quiet house; quiet except for the sound of Arthur on TV and the crunching of popcorn coming from the mouth of my eldest son Zachary. In this house that is practically pin-drop quiet. The twins are asleep in their beds. Nap time has become interesting. We have gone to every other day naps, because banging my head against the wall daily was giving me a splitting headache. As I announced bedtime today, (the bedtime announcement is "everyone grab your pillows, lollies (blankets), Elmo and baby and head upstairs; why all this stuff must come downstairs every day is beyond me) Zoe started the chant of "nannies house" that lasted for the next fifteen minutes and escalated from uber-cute and sweet to a piercing shrill. To expand on the origin of "nannies house", Zoe will from time to time put on her Peppe (Princess) high heel shoes, throw on her pink boa, and grab her purse and head for the door saying "nannies house". We do not know which grandmother she is going to see, but we do know that Zane is driving. I'm tempted to give them the keys and open the door to see how far they might make it.

Meanwhile, Zane seemed as though he was OK with nap today, or so I thought. After about twenty minutes of relative quiet from upstairs Zane jumped from the around the corner of the stairs yelling TA-DA with his lolly and Elmo in hand. In my head I had the immediate reaction to yell and scream, demanding he go straight back to bed. Unfortunately the filter that might block the outburst was out of service today because that was exactly what I did. I watched the cutest, happiest smile disappear from my 2 year old boys face. It went from shock, to frown and ultimately to sob. I immediately walked over, picked him up, gave him a hug, a kiss and took him back to his bed. I take some solace in that I made him laugh before I gave him one last hug and kiss and told him goodnight before he rolled over and fell fast asleep. Boy did I feel like a jerk.

It is an absurd proposal, but there should be classes in your senior year of college that are taught by children ages 2-7. It would be a great reminder to make sure you continue learning, asking questions, having fun, trusting and loving people. Imagine if we could be delighted by life when leaping from a corner and yelling TA-DA, or loving family (or anyone) so much that the thought of not seeing that person can induce inconsolable tears. When did fun stop being an everyday pursuit rather than an occasional luxury. There is a lot to learn from these kids...

Must go, the quiet has been broken, Zane needs juice and I must pick up the banana that for some reason is on the Wii room floor.