When I tucked my kids into bed tonight, on this their second
day in our country, we talked about what a good day we’d had. We took a walk on a nature trail, they met
and played with their cousin, we got 26 books at the library. “And I got presents!” added Oak. “And I got presents too!” added Linden, who
is always trying to keep right up with her big brother.
We’ve legally been their parents for nine days. We’ve been their caregivers for two
weeks. Today they mooned me (I mean,
spread buttcheeks and all), threw an apple at my head, smeared bananas over two
windows, tried to sneak a mustard bottle into their bedrooms, locked me out of
the house twice (yes, the second time I had figured out to keep a key in my
pocket), cracked an egg on Linden’s brand new pillow (which yesterday they
spilled orange juice on), peed on the nature trail six times, and, well,
there’s more, but you get the idea. Yet
it really was a good day. When I think
about that, the reality of what we’re doing really hits me. I don’t think I know any parents that would
consider this a good day. Somewhere in
there my husband vomited into the guest bathroom sink, which clogged it, and I
think having to clean that out wars with concern for him for feeling so
terrible as my two biggest downers of the day.
The rest of it I pretty much just rolled with, and since
things never got beyond a certain point, we were able to have fun together. Other than the peeing, I loved taking the
walk with them. They grumbled about it
all the way down our street and around the corner, then when we stepped onto
the nature trail, Oak gasped, “Is it a forest?!?” They eagerly spotted birds and
squirrels. They dashed ahead of me, but stayed
on the path and always stopped at the pre-arranged point I’d set. They told me stories, very few of which I
understood, but I loved the animation in their faces and their eagerness to
share with me. After the last few days
(and the public peeing today), I had been concerned about them getting together
with their cousin for the first time, but it went swimmingly. She eagerly handed them gifts, which they
eagerly ripped open right there in the parking lot of the park we’d decided to
meet at, and their delight needed no translation. “How did they know I wanted Legos?” wondered
Oak, so “How did they know I love Barbie?” echoed Linden. The kids played on the play structure
together, our niece filled up her water bottle from the drinking fountain for
them, and my two “Yuck, I don’t drink water” kids took turns gulping it
down. I translated the Lithuanian rules
of Tag, and they had a rousing game. The
dads supervised more games on the play structure while I sat with my
sister-in-law and talked about parenting.
Our niece is lovely, bright and willful and charming. I know my kids’ behavior right now is extreme
and atypical, but it still helped to hear some of the challenges my in-laws
have with their kid. After we left the
park, the kids were delighted with the library, grabbing any book that caught
their eye once they realized I wasn’t going to set much of a limit, while the
librarian quickly located a half dozen wordless books for me, so we can “read”
together. We came home and they dove
into their gifts, ate their dinner, asked for their baths, and climbed into bed
of their own free will, happy to be settled in with their new stuffed dogs,
their library books, and their new nightlights.
It was a good day, indeed.
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