Kiki and I got into an argument over clarinet practice. This is not the problem. The problem is that in certain emotional states I can not leave things alone. I lecture and Kiki acts stubborn. So I lecture harder because I feel like I’m not getting through. And in that moment it feels critically important for her to learn that lesson right now. Finally I manage to break out of the face-off, usually because another child has developed a dire need for attention. However the argument with Kiki feels unfinished and so I’ll go back to it. Eventually I allow Kiki to escape into solitude in her room. Once Kiki is away from the barrage of parental scold, she invariably breaks down into noisy tears. During that time she is taking my words and using them to berate herself. I hear the sobbing and the nurturing mommy part of me just has to do something, so I go to her to try to make it all better. But she’s still angry with me and with herself. She isn’t ready for it to be “all better” yet. So we end up going for another round of argument on the same subject that started the mess, or sometimes we find another thing to circle endlessly and uselessly.

Honestly the best thing for me to do when we end up in a face-off, is for me to leave Kiki alone until she works completely through her emotions and thoughts. She is really smart and she knows what is right. She has really good instincts that lead her down the right paths. I need to back off and trust that she’ll find a good way, even if it is not mine. But it is so hard. I really dislike conflict and I have a driving need to make it all better. At the same time I have a driving need to make sure that I teach my kids the lessons they’ll need. And so I try to do both and end up making a mess. Poor Kiki doesn’t see that I’m the one making mistakes in managing a minor incident, and so she feels like everything is crashing down around her. She is convinced it is all her fault. I’m convinced it is all mine. And sometimes we fight over that too. Which is dumb.

I have got to find a way to stop these escalation cycles. Everyone else suffers for them too. Gleek, Link, and Patches did not have a pleasant bedtime because I was pre-angered over the conflict with Kiki. Fortunately this kind of head-to-head conflict is fairly rare. Today it happened because I’m stressed about the books arriving tomorrow and I was subconsciously looking for things to fill my time. I need to teach my subconscious that picking a fight is not a satisfactory way to spend time.

Tonight I broke the cycle by leaving the house. I left the kids with Howard and went shopping. By the time I arrived a Walmart I realized that, except for a 15 minute trip to pick up kids from school, this was the only time I’d left the house all day. No wonder I was ready to pick a fight. I bought a card to say sorry to Kiki because cards are very important to her. She keeps all of them. I figured that I should apologize in the way best suited to her. Tomorrow Kiki and I will talk and it will all be okay.

Now if I can just figure out how not to do this to any of us again.

One does not find joy by merely weathering life’s storms. One finds joy by learning to dance in the rain.

Today we put Christmas lights on our house. This is momentous because we haven’t done so for about 7 years. We’ve stuck lights into trees and bushes, but not scaled ladders to put them on the house. This year several of the kids spoke longingly of lights on the house and I knew it was important to them. I also knew that if it didn’t happen this weekend, it would not happen at all. So this morning I hauled out the ladders and the lights.

I began to climb the ladder and discovered that I have entirely too thorough a possible-consequences generator in my brain. Ladders did not used to scare me that way. Kiki at age 12 was not inflicted with so vivid an imagination, so she was the one to scale the ladders. I kept both feet on the ground and shouted instructions. She loved every minute of it. And now we have lights on our house.

We also have our tree constructed and lit. Tomorrow I will haul out the ornaments for decorating. Once again the kids did all of the work of hauling and assembling the tree. This makes me very glad. It is a big tree. Now I can begin the task of getting the presents organized, wrapped, and under the tree. I have most of what we’ll need stashed away in my storage room, I just need to let Gleek and Patches “go shopping” for presents among the stash. I have until the books arrive to focus on Christmas. Then I’ll have no attention for anything else until the books are shipped. Everything depends upon the arrival of the books for which I still do not have a firm delivery date. Once I know the delivery date I can schedule everything else.

I have to keep reminding myself that the delivery of the books is not today’s problem. I am on vacation until Monday morning and thus I am not allowed to fret until then. For today I’m going to sit by the Christmas tree and listen to music. Maybe I’ll light a candle.

One day I watched Patches charge up the flight of stairs from ourbasement. He turned to go up the next flight, but paused for a moment. He picked up one foot, then swung both arms in the direction opposite the one he intended to go. He held the pose, then charged up the next flight of stairs. I realized that he was imitating that moment in a cartoon show when a character is getting ready to run,but hasn’t started moving yet. I have also seen Patches jump into the air and wiggle his feet before taking off at a run. He does double takes when he is surprised with a full extra shake of the head. Honestly he does not watch more cartoons than the other kids,but for some reason he is far more likely to apply cartoon body language in real life than any of my other kids ever did.

My four kids sit at the kitchen table, each in their assigned places. I never intended to portion out the territory around the table, it is just something they did for themselves. Woe betide the sibling who dares to trespass on another’s chair. Many a heated battle has been waged over such infringements. But today there are no battles. Today they are happily working on a craft project together. Not even the limited supply of fuse beads can cause contention today. Kiki announces that she needs all of the black beads and all the other kids happily acquiesce.

I stand for a minute and watch them, four heads leaning together over our kitchen table. I am aware as I watch, that I am in a golden moment. I have no babies to make endless demands upon my schedule and energy, but all of my kids are still here at home rather than dashing off out into their own lives. I am truly fortunate. I want to lock today in memory because when I blink they’ll grow again. I know this because they’ve done it before. This is not the only time that I’ve stood in recognition of a golden moment. I’ve had them rocking babies or playing with toddlers or walking kids home from school. Some moments I only recognize as golden in retrospect. But today I see the moment for the treasure it is and I savor it.

At first the four kids are silent. Each one focused on the careful placement of beads. They have no thought for conversation. After a time, Gleek begins humming and Patches attempts to tell a knock knock joke. But the children seem to recognize the noise as an intrusion and they voluntarily decide to play the “quiet mouse” game. “One! Two! Three! Quiet mouse go!” and they all attempt to be the quietest child at the table. It does not last long, quiet mouse never does, because there must be some negotiations over the beads.

Fortunately our table is small enough that everyone can reach the beads easily. There have been times when I’ve lamented the small size of our kitchen table. It has no room for guests, only six places for the six of us. Today this will not matter. We’re going elsewhere for the Thanksgiving feast this afternoon. We’re going to a house much better arranged for hosting large groups. We’ve done Thanksgiving here before, but it feels wrong not to seat everyone around a single table. The kitchen is filled with the warm smells of pumpkin and apple pie. I baked them this morning to take with us when we go. The warmth of the oven is welcome because the temperature dropped two days ago. It now feels like winter outside rather than the gloriously mild Fall we had been enjoying for months.

I lean against the stove to soak in the radiant heat and look outside at the cold. There are birds squabbling over our feeder. Kiki notices them too. “Look Mom! A chickadee!” There is indeed a little mountain chickadee out there among the finches and sparrows. He looks dapper with his black hat and creamy front. Kiki smiles with delight. Lately Kiki has been the one keeping the feeder filled. I’m glad. I love to have birds chirping near our back door, but I so often forget to fill the feeder. I see it empty and feel sad that my life has become so busy that I don’t take time to feed birds. Now Kiki keeps a chittering flock near our window at all times. And if she sometimes scatters seeds across the deck as I’ve asked her not to do, I turn a blind eye. Seed husks on the deck are messy, but I’m willing to pay that price for birds. We can always sweep later.

“I’m done!” Kiki announces. She carefully takes her creation and places it on the counter for me to iron. She heads downstairs for her timed turn with a video game. Soon Link is done too. He dashes off to watch his sister play. The golden moment has passed. Or has it? Have I just moved into a different golden moment that I don’t recognize? The kitchen still smells of pies and there is a holiday feel in the air. But I don’t think it requires pies or holidays to make moments golden. It just takes someone pausing to love the treasures that they have, rather than running around in an attempt to find more.