Small Joys Friday

I love to watch my children wrestle with their father, and I love to watch their father play with them. It’s as though the man I know and fell in love with emerges from within the tired shell that walks in the door, covered in fatigue and the dust of labor and life. Sometimes he’s too tired to do anything in response to their joyful greetings besides collapse into a chair and let them take of his boots. But often there is this moment, when they jump on him and say, “I want to wrestle with you daddy,” or start attacking him with their pretend swords, when it reminds me of that moment after a baby who is struggling takes it’s first breath and the grey is suddenly chased away and replaced by a healthy pink. It’s an instantaneous transition when life suddenly floods were nothing was before. I watch the life suddenly flood into the Genius Husband and just as suddenly his hand snakes out and fastens on an ankle and his hapless victim shrieks with glee as they struggle to get away while he tickles them. They can spend an hour there on the floor, the children attacking with boldness and he deflecting their attacks with ease and pinning them down, teaching them to figure out how to escape from the many holds he subjects them to.

The Boy and Girl often go to each other’s defense. When one is in a strangle hold the other will start beating upon their father yelling “let go of my brother/sister” in an ineffectual attempt to come to their aid. At some point it escalates and the kids will run and get their play swords and knives and come running to the attack. The girl has no idea how to use a sword; she thinks the act of holding one in front of her ought to be enough to conquer her enemy. She will point the sword at her opponent, put her other arm straight over her head, and declare, “I’m a princess.” When the boy pulls out his sword, the GH will retreat in mock terror to our bedroom, and grab one of his real knives or swords (He collects them and knows how to use them thanks to a lifetime of martial arts study.) and then I will see the kids in screaming laughter come running out of the bedroom as he, with a look of pretend fierceness on his face comes at them with a weapon raised threateningly. Then he will spend a while fencing with the boy and teaching him how to wield a knife. Eventually the fun will come to a close. Someone will be hurt, or the GH will get tired, or it will be time to eat, or time for bed.

I sit and grin and laugh my way through the entire event. For a moment I have my husband back without the constant tiredness and sadness, and my children have their father, and our house is filled with joy.

all content © Carrien Blue

One thought on “Small Joys Friday

  1. That’s really cool. Don’t think I’d let my hubby have knives and swords around my kids, but hey. 🙂
    My hubby is sick with a cold and the absolute opposite if friendly at the moment….and it’s Saturday…
    My small joy is that God still answers prayers and kept me from doing something awful…
    my Girl had a birthday on Thursday. After said party, involving 5 very high-strung squealing girls and one little brother wanting to be a part of it all, everyone went home and we collapsed. Yesterday, the Girl wants to go grocery shopping with Mommy and wants to take her money so she can buy, of all things, her own apple. We look for her wallet….no sign of it. We have her birthday money, but not her wallet with her remaining Christmas money (about $20) in it. We search high and low, give up and put the birthday money in a different wallet Mommy finds. Later, we search again. Nothing. Mommy starts suspecting the wallet has been stolen by one of the girls who had been in the Girl’s room, unattended. Mommy starts thinking it is a very specific girl, a young thing with issues (parents never home, very skinny, dirty, neglected), who had been invited, and essentially wandered in for the party empty handed and sullen (to make it clear, the no gift thing wasn’t an issue), and wandered out after eating everything we could put in front of her. Mommy starts steaming about it, getting really angry and hurt that this would happen to her Girl, and starts planning how to approach this little girl to get her to confess and give the wallet back. Then Mommy has a thought….what if she’s wrong. What would this do to the little girl to be falsely accused? So Mommy prays this morning. Hard. ‘God, if this little girl did not take the wallet, PLEASE let me find it TODAY’…get home from my job, walking down to go back to bed….something tells me to stop and walk into the kitchen. I flip on the light (it’s about 6:15AM), and my eyes go to the top of the fridge….and land on the wallet. How awful could it have been if I hadn’t? I would have gone after that poor little girl for no reason and just proven to her that white people are nasty, horrible people. Ouch! Thank you, Lord, for answering that prayer!

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