"My heart hurts because it misses Mommy."

Recently, Donna made a trip to Trinidad to celebrate her father's 80th birthday, and I stayed home with the children. When we dropped her at the airport, it was heartbreaking to see the kids crumple into tears. It's the first time Donna's been away from the children for such a long time. Hunter was nearly inconsolable and Skye's description for her own heartache was, "My heart hurts because it misses Mommy."

Nothing else could have better described the feelings we were all having. That ache when someone you love is not near is tangible. The only thing that seemed to slow the tears and crying was getting them to look at the situation differently.

I turned to Hunter and said, "I want you to think about how you feel missing Mommy for nine days. Now, think about how Granny and Grandad and Uncle Terrence feel not having her around most of the year."

Hunter paused and  through his tears said, "I never thought of it like that. That must really be hard."

It is really hard for both Donna and her parents. I can relate because my parents live far away too. I've learned that homesickness doesn't magically disappear when you have your own family. The obligations and perceived distractions raising young children provide doesn't make missing your family of origin go away. Instead, the ache grows deeper and the need to have our parents around or at least closer is more acute as our family grows. I want to have my parents witness the stories I share with them first-hand.

To pass the time until Donna comes home, Hunter has been enjoying Facetime visits via his iPod and phone calls to Trinidad and Skye has been creating beautiful "love kords (aka cards)" for Mommy.  
 
But, it's not the same as having her here. Likewise, I know that I would love nothing more than having the opportunity to call my parents and ask them over for dinner so they could enjoy time with the grandchildren and once they were tucked into their beds, time with me. That spontaneity some families enjoy is not something we have. Our visits are carefully planned and orchestrated and the itineraries while visiting become daunting as we try to fit time in with other relatives as well. 

Although our technology helps to a degree in bridging the distance geography creates, it's not nearly as adequate as sitting in the same room, sharing coffee and stories drawn both from fond memories and recent escapades. So, as I retrieve my lovely wife from the airport after her visit is complete, I know that along with her joy in seeing us she will be carrying the sorrow of leaving her family of origin behind.

I guess we'll all just have to wait for technology to allow us to transport ourselves from one location to the next, Star Trek-style. Until then, we will cherish face to face visits that much more.

"I love it when it's just you and me."

One on one time with our children is so important, but it's equally hard to come by as we try to manage our busy schedules. Not only do I have to sync my calendar with my wife, but I also have to start syncing Hunter's and Skye's social calendars and extra-curricular activities. It's a daunting prospect most days to have all four of us in the same room together for longer than 30 minutes at a time. So, I can't imagine how families with more children achieve quality family time together.

On Saturdays, if things are slow at the zoo, where Donna works, then she'll take Hunter with her for the day and I will spend time alone with Skye. That was our arrangement today, and Skye and I got to spend the day enjoying a slow start, French toast and banana for breakfast, the typical four or five loads of laundry cycling in the basement, and today, the first real snowstorm of the season, so shoveling out the driveway and walkway and throwing down ice-melt was in order. Skye was only too happy to do ice-melt duty.

Once all of the chores were finished, and the laundry was on its third load, I took Skye sledding at the elementary school they attend. The school sits on a slope and it's a thrilling experience for anyone still in the single-digit age range. I am convinced that one of the most beautiful sounds in the world is a child's uninhibited laughter as they swoosh down a hill of fresh snow. As we were approaching the school, Skye said, "I love it when it's just you and me."

I responded, "I do too, honey."

It's been a beautiful day with Skye, and it makes me look forward even more to the special trip Hunter and I have planned for next month on his winter break when we head up to Maine.

The blessings of those moments when multi-tasking can stop and living the moment is all that's required is precious. It's rare to find those moments of complete presence and I'm going to try even harder this year to soak them up as they happen. My little girl is already well into her kindergarten year and that only means her life will become peppered with more activities and as such, so will mine.

So, Skye, I love it when it's just you and me; and Hunter, I love it when it's just me and you. You each teach me more about what's truly important than any other people. So, I really wonder, is it the parent who teaches the child or the child who awakens the child within the parent to remind us of what our priorities need to be?

Regardless, I thank you both. And Donna, let's see if we can find that time to say, "I love it when it's just me and you." I think it's time for a sitter. 

Now, let's see if I can find it with Donna, too :)

"When did you become my Mommy?"

Bath time seems to be a time of reflection for Skye. Donna had bath duty the other night and I heard Skye ask, "Mommy, when did you become my Mommy?"

Donna answered, "I've always been your Mommy."

Nickie pressed for more details, "From when?"

"From when you came out of Mama's belly. Actually, I was your mommy before, while you were in Mama's belly." Donna answered patiently.

Skye simply answered, "Oh."

It's true. Donna and I planned for both of our precious children and began dreaming of them before they were biologically conceived. I have this vision that the unborn souls in Heaven are looking for the right match before they jump into our world. I think in our case, Skye was looking for parents with wit, a great sense of humor, patience and tough love. She's gotten that in spades.

Similar to her questions to Donna, Skye asked me the other day where she was when I was a little girl. I told her, " In Heaven, waiting to be born."

It's interesting that from the moment we can speak, we start trying to figure out when we started. It brings a whole new perspective on the age old question, "When does life begin?"

Before I was a parent, I would have answered "When the sperm meets the egg." Now, I really do believe that there are souls in Heaven, waiting to be born. Sometimes a soul will wait human lifetimes before it's ready to join us down here. Other times, it will jump in as soon as it can, eager to experience the human condition.

Personally, I believe we will never really know when our lives begin. As a spiritual person, I don't think we need to know. All we need to embrace is that each and everyone living creature on this planet is connected somehow. The sanctity of that belief system is what governs how I walk in the world. Donna and I both do so with respect, gratitude and reverence. I trust that our children will do the same.