Double Up (with Laughter)

I read that children can laugh 300 times a day. I know them all. The deep, melodious cackle during a tickling. The dimpled chuckle to a surprise peek-a-boo. The squeal of pure joy upon discovering a favorite bear. Or the happy hoot welcoming a bottle of warm milk.

I tried to count the number of times I laughed during an average day-not just smiled, but actually laughed with real gusto. My kids had me beat by a mile. But the times I did laugh, their eyes widened in encouragement. I could imagine them saying, “you got it mom, let’s hear some noise, let’s see those molars!”

I have no excuse for not laughing more - I get double the chance. Fifteen month-old Carson and Austin epitomize the saying, “show me a day when the world wasn’t new,” by finding delight in everything. They find amusement in the jangle of metal measuring spoons and the splash of mud puddles. They chase each other in hysterics - weaving through the legs of furniture, lapping the kitchen island, circling on their toddler bikes. At naptime, I hear gymnastics in one crib and the audience cheering a score of perfect 10.

It wasn’t long ago that they might sidle up next to each other at the toy box without so much as a sideways glance. They drove their cars and answered their telephones solo. There was too much to do to be bothered with another person, especially the competition! Besides, mommy and daddy were always at beck and call to read a book or play monster. But the inevitable discovery of each other has sparked a lively pace of play and infectious laughter that echoes off the walls and into our hearts.

Now putting Pollyanna aside, it’s not always jolly ‘round here. Play often deteriorates into a tug-of-war over toys - shrieks from the “victim” sound the alarm of foul play. Or the boys can be struck silent – absolutely frozen in the doorway of a new playgroup.

I’m delighted they have found a ready playmate in each other, one who will last a lifetime. Sometimes I lament the loss of my job as entertainer, the way I mourned the day they preferred bottle to breast. But most of the time, I take pleasure in reading the paper, cooking dinner or just watching. Because I know, they’ll be back. And in the meantime, I plan to laugh myself silly.
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As printed in Mama Says newsletter

The Taste of Slowness

I wonder how the next generation of parents will reflect on today’s family life. I’m curious what they will think of a culture where people are way too busy. How will they perceive a time marked by the popular “one-minute bedtime story” for babies, children with chock-full day planners, moms and dads working frenzied schedules and cell phones and email never allowing us to stray too far.

Even in Vermont, with its laid back way about things, I used to succumb to the ambitions of our greater society. Ironically, it wasn’t a high-powered investment firm that scheduled my weeks to the minute, but the non-profit sector. It wasn’t hours of freeway commuting that made my nights long, but volunteer committee meetings. And weekends and vacations brought household and recreation pressures, from garden beds to bike rides.

Motherhood has a way of forcing pause. As a time of monumental transformation, it reinvents everything we know, especially the pace of things. Having a newborn in the home shrinks the whole world to its simplest form - a refocusing of activity inward towards family, self and homestead. Time became temporarily irrelevant the day we brought home our boys, Carson and Austin, from the hospital. Mornings seemed to dissolve gazing at our sleeping babies, days slipped by without noticing dirty dishes, weeks disappeared without a to do list.

Only a year and a half later, playgroups, writing and household chores make life hectic again. I have fallen back into my old rhythm of multi-tasking - trying to “do-it-all” - but this time I am working on embracing the chaos. The toys strewn around the house rarely make me sigh and the email inbox can be easily ignored. I am better about relaxing while picking dandelions in the meadow all morning. I can contentedly follow our toddlers as they stop at every puddle along the way to the mailbox.

Because I don’t want to go back to the pace I used to know, to a tempo that once risked health and happiness. I refuse to join my generation of parents with the bookcase of one-minute bedtime stories and dog-eared day planner. Many would tell me I have no choice, our society is into speed. And my goal-oriented former self would nod her head in agreement. At the same time, I hope the luxurious taste of slowness keeps bringing me back. Back to the sandbox where our boys unhurriedly dig and pour, while the garden waits patiently nearby.
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As printed in Mama Says newsletter