really important

Today was weird. Gabriel was off school, and I ended up bringing him and Beatrice to campus with me when I went in to work to stay with a sitter. Mike picked him up early and brought him home, which was a bit tricky, while I picked up Beatrice a little later - and really - actually - the details are so boring. These kinds of things should only fill the heads of the actual parents who choose to take on these specific logistical brain-filling messes, certainly not their friends, nor families, nor readers. Apologies.

The upshot of it all was that Gabriel was bored out of his mind, apparently, while waiting for me to come home and watching his Papa prepare for class. It was torture.

At least this is what he told me, as we piled back into the car shortly after I came home, off again to pick up Frances.

(Wait. Will you indulge me one more boring detail? I had the stomach flu over the weekend. A feverish, bone-shaking, icky, achey, 10 hour nightmare. And then it was gone. But the aftereffects, for me and everyone else, have taken a bit longer to quiet down. Oh my. Don't you feel sorry for me? A little? But - back to my story.)

Gabriel, I said, why didn't you build with Legos or draw or write or practice piano or make something amazing?

I did for awhile, but then I got bored out of my mind.

But you're so good at doing cool things. And I'm really not that exciting anyway.

-pause-

...What are you talking about, Mama?

I just mean I'm not so so much fun. Sometimes I'm just cooking dinner or reading. You know? You guys can have a great time without me.

...Mama. You're the best person in the world! How can you even say that? Everyone loves you so much! You're really important. You are.

Well, I...

Seriously, Mama. You should be proud of yourself.

Wow. That was about it. I should be proud. I just smiled at him in the rear view mirror and thanked him, and then he started making Beatrice laugh, or she made him laugh, and we picked up Frances and the girls who live next door at their school and the day just kept barreling on.

I don't think I was trying to sell myself short with Gabriel. I think I was trying to get off the hook. Sometimes I would rather not be so important (like when ill) and sometimes I would like everyone to need and want me a little less. But somehow being the best person in the world is part of the deal, an inescapable responsibility and a boundless blessing. We are tied together, quite firmly. We are, all of us, really important. What a mysterious force a family is!

beatlemania

It all started months ago. I was giving Beatrice - already quite the contrarian - a bath. She took to the whole defiant toddler mentality thing like a fish to water. So to speak. Ha! Anyway: to my every suggestion, she'd flash her blue eyes at me and say the opposite. So I did what I often do in my life with strong-willed children; I broke into an enthusiastic fragment of a pop song: you say yes, I say no. You say stop, and I say go go go!

Oh, did she love it. Again, again Mama! When we came downstairs in pajamas, I played the song for her. Then we watched it on Youtube. They are just darling, those Beatles. Frances and Gabriel were also transfixed. They'd heard plenty of Beatles songs before but somehow the time was right, and all three of them surely and swiftly fell into an obsession that only seems to grow in magnitude as time wears on.

I wish I had a photo, Harry Potter-style, of the three of them dancing in the kitchen, or of Frances and Gabriel collaborating thoughtfully in order to get all of the lyrics to You've Got to Hide Your Love Away just right or of Beatrice shouting her signature, life-affirming, delightful AGAIN! the minute a song is over in the car and Frances and Gabriel laughing because let's face it, she is outrageously predictable sometimes.

Here's something I've noticed: one of the greatest parenting joys for me is the sound - usually in the next room, or as in the above photo, in Gabriel's hideout behind the couch - of my children laughing together. Sometimes when they don't know I'm there I hear how they crack each other up, wrestling or singing or doing silly dances, and my knees nearly buckle with the sweetness. Gabriel and Beatrice in particular lately have been so dear in their intimacy and shared humor. They jump on my bed while I get ready for work. Gabriel builds towers and Bea knocks them over. He pretend eats her pretend cooking projects.

He is so very patient. Yesterday there was a two hour delay for him, and I was going into work late, so the three of us had some extra time at home in the morning. I was upstairs brushing my teeth when I heard him yell Mama!! HELP! Get her out of here! She was in his lair, which he does not normally tolerate. She breaks all his Lego projects and grabs at whatever he is playing with. But by the time I came down, they were huddled around the heating vent, quietly collaborating - somehow - on a Lego house. I looked at Gabriel, eyebrows raised. It's okay now, he smiled back. Nevermind.

In the same token, I feel utter rage when my children are mean to one another. That has historically meant Frances belittling Gabriel - often subtly suggesting he is too babyish to understand her sophisticated world. This has been going on for many years. Irrational, ferocious anger courses through me when I overhear that kind of stuff and sometimes I react in ways I later regret.

Three is beautiful, three is hard. Frances wants to be responsible and care for Beatrice. Gabriel wants to play with Beatrice. Gabriel wants his Didi's affection and inclusion; he is devastated when she suggests he is not good enough for her, often lashing out in anger. Frances wants his devotion and wants to maintain her sense of power and in-charge-ness. This is complicated, deep, eternal, intimate sibling stuff. Far be it from me to fix it all.

Though I wish I could. I wish I could help them let go of hurts and expectations and just be together - but I can't, not really. However. It does seem possible that John, Paul, George, and Ringo can. We watched Help! over the weekend. Beatrice asks me to sing Let it Be for her bedtime song nearly every night. Gabriel has perfected some of John's wild dancing, and he and Frances have studied Wikipedia articles on all four of them. Did you know Ringo was the first Beatle to become a grandparent? Did you know George was only 14 when he auditioned and joined?

Periodically, all three ask one another: Who's your favorite Beatle? They always agree, after some discussion, that it is impossible to choose just one.

The Beatles, our great unifiers! Thank you, thank you. More than sixty years later, you are still inspiring fans to new heights of love and dedication.