Insanity at 4 a.m.

Picture the scene.....
Time: 4:15 a.m.
Place: my older daughter's bedroom
Action: Oldest daughter, sitting stark naked, wide-awake, organizing her "magic wands" (pencils) by size under the bright light of her bedside lamp. Mama walks in, bleary eyed.

Olkay.... now what?

Take one: Mama is empathetic. She's had nights (like right now) where she wakes up and can't fall asleep. Asks what Daughter is doing, feigns interest. Goes to move pencils lined up on bed, Daughter howls, Mama leaves them be. Tells her to turn off the light and go to sleep by 4:30 (points to digital clock on nightstand) gives her a kiss, wanders back to own bed and passes out.

Take two: (One hour later). Mama, again walking bleary eyed, emerges from Younger Daughter's room (5:15 nursing --purely for comfort -- for Mama) to see light still blaring in Older Daughter's room. "You were supposed to go to sleep an hour ago!" "I didn't look at the clock." (Well, that's one way to avoid obeying an order to go to sleep at 4:30). Leaving pencils still lined up (but taking book being read) Mama turns off light strernly, stumbles back into bed.

Take three: (Less than three mintues later) Light emerges from under closed door of Older Daughter's room. Mama looks at clock, past 5 a.m., justifiable to wake (morning person) husband. Informs him of situation, rolls over and tries to go back to sleep. Hears Abba go into Older Daughter's room, bellows (somewhat quietly) at her to TURN OFF THE LIGHT and BE QUIET! Takes pencils. Daughter howls (higher pitch, almost as loud as Abba bellow). Abba repeatedly hisses (still loudly) BE!!!! QUIET!!!! Mama lies in bed, praying Younger Daughter doesn't wake (having just been put back into crib after emo-nurse) and wondering if she did The Right Thing by sending in Cranky Abba. Now child is snuffling miserably, Abba is bent out of shape, Mama can't sleep (Younger Daughter, miraculously, is still sleeping).

Now, what would you have done if you walked in on your 6 1/2 year old, starkers, lining up pencils and in the middle of the night. Is this Normal? Is it Weird? Does it Matter?

Could this be anxiety about starting a new camp tomorrow? A brilliant, over active imagination that won't let her sleep? A blazing streak of independence that refuses to anything but what she wants to do? All of the above? And is the whole scence, Mama, Older Daughter, Abba (let's leave out Younger Daughter until she can at least talk) -- INSANE?

Or am I just overtired?

The baby package

Why do I adore babies? So many reasons. The little hands like soft flowers, the toothless grin, high pitched squeals, the crying that sounds like laughter and the laughter that sounds like bells. And the thighs! Those pulkes (Yiddish); I wished and prayed for a lovely pair on my second child -- the first was, and still is, a skinny kid. And boy did I get my prayers answered. Put a tutu on my naked daughter and you'd have one of the hippos straight out of Fantasia. Little, dimpled, rolled thighs tapering into tiny little ankles and fat square feet with fringe of toes. Yummy.

But enough about how I have a bizarre (and reverse Oedipla) desire to consume my children. Back to why I love babies, all babies, not just mine. Babies are a beautifully wrapped package. Adorable and enchanting to look at, but you have no idea what's inside when it's first put n your hands. But slowly, slowly, the wrapping peels away bit by bit, not in large, consistent sections, but a little snip here, and pulling seam there. Hints of what might lie inside. As I parent, I assume I'll spend the reest of my life watching these packages unwrap and open, but now I only see a flash of blue, and bit of s swirl, maybe a rough spot, and try to guess who the older child, teen, young adult, future parent, gray haired woman, might be. I should really write some predicitions down, and see how right or wrong I am, but I'm afraid I'd just reveal my presumptions that will shape the end product, for better and worse. Because that's the other thing about these packages, the longer you have them, the more you will push on and shape them. What's inside is all there, but years of rough handling can destroy the prettiest bits, where leaving it alone might cause other parts to get dusty and fade.