R and A, you save me. You move me. You keep me afloat. You make mundane days into my favorite moments. You’re ten and five. I cry as I write your ages for you’ll never be these again. I want to keep you as you are: wrapped in wonder and joy and so much contagious spunkiness.
It’s just another weekend with no real plans, but it’s my weekend and since we’re together the days unfold as if they were made for us.
Surrounded on all sides by kids and parents on iPads and phones, Rafe and I dare to read a hardcover library book of scary ghost stories for kids while Alba learns, for the first time, to move from one gymnastic ring to the next. I am faster than Rafe at reading so while I wait for him to turn the page I look up just in time to witness her grow more confident and strong right before my eyes.
We return home and they both just want to play with me at the same time, per usual. I come up with the perfect plan to keep them both happy. I stand in the middle of my living room, Rafe guarding his goal on one side and Alba on the other net. I alternate and try to score on both of these couch goalies. We do this for 30 minutes until lunch. They are disappointed and mad when the game ends.
We recover while eating sun butter and fluff sandwiches while watching Bluey, stopping only to laugh together.
Rafe’s friend comes over right after we finish eating. He immediately asks if I can play Taylor Swift. My house becomes a dance party. This friend knows every line to every song. While he may not be aware, Rafe’s being turned into a Swiftie. If you ask him he’ll say he only likes rap, but we know the truth.
The dance party turns into board games and pig piles and jumping on the trampoline full of fall leaves.
Alba’s a bad loser. When she doesn’t win the game we take a photo of us all being angry and then I turn us into emojis.
The exact moment when the parents arrive at my house to pick up Rafe’s friend, I have two boys staring at me with the biggest “please” faces and prayer hands asking for a sleepover. I can’t say no. Also, I didn’t buy the coolest teal pullout couch for nothing.
Alas, the fun was about to stop but it continues. We get take-out. The boys watch Matilda while I get Alba ready for bed. I happen to walk by and hear “When I grow up” and stop myself from bursting into tears.
The line from the song about adults being brave enough to fight the monsters under the bed gets me every time.
I don’t want them to grow up. Not yet. Can’t we just wait a little longer at these ages?
I’m not yet uncool. I know it’s coming but we’re not there. The kids and their friends want me to hang out and play and sing and dance. This will change. It’s just around the corner.
For now this insomniac is awake. The beautiful children are sleeping for they don’t yet know of adult problems. I won’t tell them what’s surely ahead. I’d selfishly like them to stay this innocent and free forever.