Rituals

The rituals of parenting can be as simple as reading a story before bedtime, or as complex as the desperate dance of a rush-hour morning.  These rituals can begin in bleary-eyed confusion, in the darkness of deepest night, or in the rush of absolute necessity.  They sneak up on us as essential elements of our day, turning tears into smiles and frenetic activity into smooth efficiency.  They remain in our hearts as something close to tradition, noticed most poignantly when they change into something new.

There are a few rituals in the River Badger household that define our days, that I know will be gone as the Little Badgers grow and our schedules adjust.  These rituals begin as soon as we get up, and serve as signposts through the day.  Breakfast, playtime, getting ready for naps, dinner, bath, bedtime.

Some parts of the rituals have held through all three children.  When Big Brother Badger was a baby, I or Daddy River Badger would finish his bath by wrapping him up in a soft towel and bringing him, his little face and tiny feet peeking out, out to see the other parent.  We would kiss him and admire him and he would light up.  We continued this tradition with Little Brother, who, as he got older, would squeal "show me to Daddy!" after his bath.  Even now, tonight, as I finished up the dishes from dinner, DRB brought Baby in to see me, wrapped in a towel, her little face beaming up at me.  I kissed her little nose, still wet from her bath.  This is something that I treasure, and look forward to every night.

Other little rituals are more recently established.  Nap-time for the Little Badgers since I've been home full-time has become our newest ritual.  Baby goes up first.  I warm a bottle, and carry her into her room, where we sit on a comfy chair and I rock her.  She holds her bottle in one hand and gently pulls at my hair with the other until she's drowsy and her bottle is empty.  I put her in her crib, give her "Baa" (a stuffed sheep), and cover her with her blanket.  She says a soft "Bye-bye", and falls asleep.  Little Brother comes up next; he sleeps in my bed, since he and Big Brother talk too much when they are in the same room for naps.  I give him his milk (in a sippy cup!), and tuck him in with his stuffed Thomas the Train.  BBB holds out for "quiet time".  He's decided that he's too old for naps, but he's always tired if he doesn't lie down.  I set him up in his room with some toys and books and leave him to it.  As I walk down the hall, I'll hear him begin a story, his little voice very serious as he discusses the fate of his bugs, or dinosaurs, or trucks.

The rituals of parenting are so inherent to the family, so personal and yet so mundane to an outsider.  They are precious, and can mark the evolution of children from tiny infants to precocious toddlers to independent youngsters.  They can be quickly forgotten, or held onto forever.  They make me look at my day differently; instead of day-to-day tedium, I see a template for memories.