Children & Chocolate and Other Paths to God

My husband came home the other night to the usual 6pm chaos. I had one of the music channels on the TV, probably either “70’s Favorites” or “Party Hits”, as both are upbeat and fun for the kids. (Though I’ve got my older daughter digging the jazz and blues channels too…) The children had been fed, and were just enjoying some play time before bed. Sometimes, however, I forget how bizarre the world of child-rearing can look to those who aren’t up to their eyeballs in it 14 hours a day.

The four-year-old was running around the house wearing her bathing suit, sunglasses and new flip-flops. She had been wearing clothes up until about 3pm and decided then that it was time to “suit up” for reasons I don’t try to understand. Whatever. It was a beautiful day, however, and I kept trying to get her outside, but I did require that she put on some more clothing. No dice. So when my husband came home, he wanted to take her to the park behind our house, but all he got was a “No sanks daddy. I stay here.” And she continued to sing her little song to herself and put bibs on all of her stuffed animals in the TV room.

Next he focused his attention on the 1-year-old, who was zipping around the dining room with the dog bowl on her head. I’m not sure if she put it there or her big sister, but she was enjoying it, and wasn’t planning on slowing down for anyone. My husband laughed and surveyed the room.

“Where’s Fred?” my husband asked, trying one last time to make some contact with our dependents.

“Dunno,” I answered, absorbed in a cookbook at the kitchen table. I have a ton of family coming in this weekend and have been trying to plan some meals. “I don’t think he’s outside,” I said, “check the living room.”

Sure enough, amid all the chaos, Fred was sitting in the pup tent (no pun intended) that my older daughter got for her birthday. I haven’t decided yet where the tent is going to reside in the house, so there it still sits. With a beagle in it.

“This place a little crazy today or is it just me?” he asked as the dish-wearing baby scooted over his feet.

“Uh, no, this is pretty much the norm,” I answered, smiling. Some days I guess the house appears more “under control”, but most days I feel like I live in a zoo. Yes, residing with small children and pets is definitely living on the wild side. Just call me Ranger Rick.