With the birth of the two girls, our lives were about to change forever, but even I wasn’t prepared for how much. To say we were all strangers on that day would be incorrect. We had known their mother long before their birth, and during that time we had grown accustomed to being around each other, eventually calling her part of the family. That’s what family does.
Now we all live together — with The Wife and me living in our own basement to make room for everyone else. But don’t feel sorry for us. We have a really nice basement with tray ceilings and chandeliers. The windows on three sides let in plenty of daylight to enjoy watching the girls playing outside.
Our wooded lot was cleared last year of all underbrush so exploring it is much easier. I can just sit and watch as they discover new amazing things about “their” woods. To them, even a stick, leaf, or pebble holds endless possibilities as a play toy.
Recently “The girls” have gotten really good about playing together. Yes, as dysfunctional as ours may be sometimes, simply put, we’re family — all of us. And family takes care of family no matter how small.
After they were born, The Wife and I suggested names. To our surprise, the names eventually stuck. It has now been two years, and we have fallen into a routine. We make sure they are out of bed and have breakfast before 8 in the morning. Dinner is usually at 7 but could be delayed as late as 9 at night due to our active lifestyles.
The girls don’t complain, though, but I know they don’t like eating that late. Their beds are always fluffed and a toy is placed there so they can play if they wake. Watching them playing is special, but watching them sleep? That’s magical, especially when they snuggle in bed together.
When I retired from the fire department, The Wife and I celebrated by going on a once in a lifetime trip to Europe. The trip lasted 13 days and was indeed magical. We promised each other it was only the first of such trips and we would continue traveling each year. It would be a promise impossible to keep. Shortly after our return is when we saw the girls for the first time and any thoughts of traveling became much more complicated. With our priorities changing, who knew our trip of a lifetime was to be exactly that?
This morning, just after 6, I heard the pitter-patter of little feet walking across the wood floor. Little One, the soon-to-be 4-year-old, had gotten out of bed early all by herself. Still half asleep, she wrapped her arms around me and said, “Big Papa, I love you.” An hour later her younger sister, Sweet Caroline, emerged in her typical sleepy state, red hair disheveled, and dragging her blankie. She also repeated what had become a morning routine: a hug, a kiss, and, “I love you.”
After a quick bathroom visit for Little One and a diaper change for Sweet Caroline, they asked if they could help feed “The girls.” It’s never too early to teach children about taking care of animals. At our house that means our feral cats. Patches is their mom, her girls are Poof, because of her poofy tail, and Squeak. Squeak doesn’t meow; she just squeaks. Dad is a big orange cat we call Handsome Man. All have beds made out of Styrofoam coolers filled with plenty of straw for these cold winter nights. And yes, their straw beds are fluffed nightly.
After filling food and water bowls, we closed the front door and watched for a moment through the sidelights as our little cat family took turns eating breakfast, but we watched only for a moment. With their morning feeding duties complete, our girls inside were once again across the living room playing with the Disney castle. Seems dinosaurs were trying to scale the outside walls, which were now being defended by stuffed dragons and miniature Dog Patrol live action figurines.
As the girls giggled, shouted, and discussed battle plans, I fixed their breakfast. Soon we would have to get ready for school: a morning bubble bath, picking out clothes, and hair brushed and styled with matching scrunches. But for now I enjoyed the moment.
Our house is full. They live upstairs, Patches and, “The Girls” live outside, and The Wife and I, we live in the basement. Some would say being tied down raising children again at our age would be a burden.
We consider it an honor.
Besides, why travel the world when the most amazing things are right here playing on the floor in our own living room? They simply love spending time with their Big Papa and Gigi. Oh, what adventures we will all have together for years to come!
[Rick Ryckeley has been writing stories since 2001. To read more of Rick’s stories, visit his blog: storiesbyrick.wordpress.com.]
