Yesterday my kids wanted to go outside in the rain. It was a treat for Gianna to wear her rain coat and boots. I decided to capture the moments and then write the following poem. The poem came out sadder than the moments of the day, but accurate still. At some point my kids will grow up, and I’ll be telling the parents of young kids to cherish those moments before they go away.
Rain Moments of Today
I watch my kids discover puddles,
So I run with the camera to capture the joy
Of my boy, girl, boy, screeching in delight
At the sight, sound and feel that mud might reveal
As it shoots from concrete pools and tools its way inside
To where their feet reside.
Laughter wins as one discovers mud on his hands,
Joyously he understands that he’s getting away with something
Which is why I’m snapping pictures today
Before he gets away.
The Couch-Line of Toys
An army of toys deploys it’s frontline
Into uncharted territories to find
The mysteries underneath the couch that lie
Out of the reach of my
Hand’s swipe for figurines and Duplos,
Unwilling to join those
We’ve already put away.
I give up, knowing that another day
I’ll lift the couch and find
The toys, now out of sight inside my mind.
Rocking to Sleep
I’m thankful to my wife
For the life we’ve co created,
For the children she sedated
Last night while I had a turn sleeping.
She was busy keeping
The rocker rocking,
Our children back to whispered dreams.
This is one of our family traditions. looking at lights on Christmas eve.
Gingerbread Family Looking at Lights
Since this evening merited
A tradition we’ve inherited,
We set the timer on a slow-paced drive
To keep the ritual alive.
The Christmas music’s on,
While red hots look upon
Lit-up houses we drive by
Frosting dripping in each eye.
Cranking the heat tonight
We hoped it might
Into smaller cookies sedated.
Two of our cookies cannot keep
Their eyes open, they fell asleep
While the third is too excited
Glazing at Christmas lights,
An oven window’s Christmas sights.
Until the oven puts him down
We’ll drive around this lit-up town.
Filed under food, parenting
Our what-ifs are now little whos
With thoughts that confuse
Me and my wife, who try to understand
Everything they’re saying
While we’re playing
In their paper-tube band.
Parental Superpower: Ability to Find Joy
He pronounced the word “Joy” with an African accent,
One word spoken clearly through crying attack sent
From my kid to my ear
As I tried to clear out to the cry room,
The vocal tomb of unwanted crying
Receiving looks from those denying
They’d lost their reason to sit there.
So I walked further back to where
I could sway and shhh my child who fell off the kneeler,
Wiping her tears away to reveal her
Still-crying eyes that were calming from being scared.
I tasted salt on my lips and prepared
To go back out to the pew…
In a minute or two.
My daughter was ready but I was held on
To the joy of the moment before it was gone.
Parental Superpowers: Restarting the Earth’s Rotation
I know that it’s my children’s fault
When the world comes to a screeching halt
At an untimely 3 A M.
They’re screaming wakes the unconscious head
So I go to find them in their bed
Missing the most important thing for them.
Their stuffed dog’s missing, or their baby doll,
Or their blankets folded wrongly so the bawl
About anything until I say
Don’t worry it’ll be okay
And replace that most important thing
With the assurance that I bring.
I breathe-in moments like this for what their worth
Then close the door, having restarted the earth.
Life Revolving Around a Three-and-a-Half Year-Old
My son’s cheeks were pressed with corners of his grinning
As he told me he that he could “make the room move around.”
I said “okay” and so he started spinning
And then said “see” when he fell and hit the ground.
Baby on the Move
I might not crawl now,
But I know somehow
I’m going to make it to that Christmas tree
And pull on things not supposed to be
Pulled on by the likes of me.
Very soon you’ll find me
Scooting where I want to be,
Like moving toward the Christmas tree
Instead of my somehow
scooting backwards now.
Parental Superpowers: Magic Lips
If my child has a boo boo
From random sibling violence
I draw that child close
And use these Healing Lips of Silence.
If someone thuds or falls or slips,
Or hits their head upon the table,
The problem’s solved with magic lips
Pre-pursed, ready and able
To stop the crying by release of
A parental magic potion.
A blend of spit and parent love
In super hero motion.