'Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star...'

Our family has a new bed time ritual. After the jammies are on, the teeth are brushed, the nightlight is plugged in, and the white noise is turned on, Nora and I each scoop up a child, sit down and sing 'Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star', 'You Are My Sunshine', and 'Rock A By Baby', usually in that order. The glowing stars that Emma and I hung on the walls glow with satisfaction while B & E let go of the day's activities, their funnel of energy dissipating into the simple serenity of their favorite lullabies.

It has become my favorite part of the day, but not in an obvious way. I seem to forget how amazing the moment is until it's upon me. In the 20 minutes leading up to bedtime I'm usually looking forward to the moments after the kids are asleep that Nora and I will have to eat, watch TV, read, and any other assortment of 'parent' activities a person might think of. It's not until Bemma's room is filled with the twinkle of the stars, and either Emma or Ben is snuggled into me, that I remember, "Oh yeah, this moment of the day is great!" About four nights ago 'great' got a major promotion to 'phenomenal', because Ben started singing along.

Since we started the ritual, Nora has encouraged the kids to sing along, but the other night Ben took her up on the offer...and I couldn't stop smiling. My sometimes reserved--and always car crazy--little boy joined in our rendition of  'Twinkle, Twinkle' with a confidence that made me wonder if he'd been signed as the 'fourth tenor'.  He didn't sing every word, but the sporadic 'Twinkle', 'Star', 'High', and 'Sky' that he did manage to sing were delivered with enthusiasm. When he first sang with us I was so caught up in how stinkin' cute he sounded, and how into it he was, that I couldn't take my eyes off of him, even though it was too dark to even see his face.

Emma hasn't joined in yet. I think she's still in shock that the brother who throws himself on the ground in tears when she steals his 'red car' has the courage to belt out his own remake of the timeless lullabies. In the darkness, I can't see her face either, but I'm pretty sure her eyes are fixed on him while he sings; she's studying him, trying to figure out how he can, at certain moments, throw caution to the wind and jump into a situation that makes her nervous. She'll spend her whole life studying him in that way, and in the process will probably learn how to overcome many of her own fears. Such is the gift of a twin, I suppose.

Once the songs are done and they're each tucked in with their multiple bed companions (at this point I think they each have 4 blankets, 4 blanket animals, 3 stuffed animals, 2 books,  1 pillow, and at least one other personal item) I float out of their room, weightless on the simple joy of listening to my 2.4 year old son sing 'Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star'. At the end of a long day--when I've run the gauntlet of parenting emotion--my time singing with my kids, and especially Ben's precious voice, are the perfect nightcap. It leaves things on a high note, which helps me feel motivated to do it all again in less than 12 hours.

It sure beats the way we use to end the day when they were newborns/infants: a 45 minute bottle-feeding session in darkened silence, followed by 45 minutes of earnest hoping and praying that they would go to sleep, and stay asleep. But those memories are for a blog that's yet to be written. (In case you haven't noticed, I seem to be avoiding the 'Newborn' portion of my Timeline Series. I think those wounds are still healing...I'm joking of course...but not really.)

It's the little moments in time--like Ben's singing--that keep a parent going. My unending love for them keeps me invested and dedicated, but it is the songs of 'Twinkle, Twinkle', Emma's pleas to be tickled, Ben's infectious laugh, and a handful of other random child-parent connections that make being a parent something I look forward to. Such moments in time are like gas stations on life's road; they fill you up, give you a moment of relief, and remind you that the best moments of your trip are happening while you journey.