watching the kids

Lynn's out of town for three days. It's been fun and crazy and made me admire endlessly again my friends who are devoting their lives to single parenting.

I had at least three people who said stuff like: "Babysitting the kids?"

And I sort of look at them and think -- okay, I don't want to assume that that comment comes from the place it sounds like it comes from -- but when Lynn's with them -- do you ask her if she's babysitting?

So I have been "watching" the kids -- but I don't mean that in terms of parenting. I mean it in terms of learning.

On Sunday afternoon they played, delightfully both together and without inviting me that they were taking a long (long, long) trip. They were "dad" and "mom" and packed a suitcase full of books and a few toys, lugged it upstairs, back down again, and made a train snaking around the dining room that included every antique wooden chair in this house (which is a lot).

Last night was "observation night" for Addison's swimming lessons, so instead of ellipticalling with a row of other suburban gerbils-on-wheels, I sat in a badly lit hallway watching a surveillance camera representation of Addison's swimming lesson with a group of 20 other thirtysomething yuppies.

And it was funny, becuase people didn't talk to each other very much. The most oft repeated comment was: I can't figure out which one is her / him. And it was true. There were just a slew of three year old bodies bobbing in that little pool and they do look astonishing alike when rendered on a mediocre resolution tv set from the distance of 15 feet in the corner of the natatorium.

So I was sitting there for forty minutes watching the pixels which were my little curly-haired progeny, and feeling genuine delight when he was the first to duck (partway) under water and when he eagerly kicked his way to the end of the pool and back, and even as he started up a splashing game with some of his newfound friends. But the truth is: forty minutes is a long time for a swim lesson. And I'm sure Addison even found some of the waiting around tiresome. And there's a reason why Reality Programming Television is not, you know, rooted in any kind of reality.

So it was official: "Observation Night" was boring. And delightful, mind you, but the delights were so occasional, as to render the overall experience....(I'm just being honest here, not heartless) boring.

And I could have struck up a conversation with the crewcut Dad in the Hollister shorts or the nursing mom in the chair on the other side of me, but instead I chose to just sit and watch.

I could make this a pool of peace after all.

And then I was struck that these ridiculously small pixels on the screen were calling to me in about a remarkable zenlike opportunity. I could:

Watch...my son.

I could, if I chose to, pour all of my energy into this activity. Considering him, enjoying him, wondering over him.

I think that parents expect that they'll spend time just watching their babies, but I, at least, assumed that once the babies turned into humans that I'd mostly interact with them or help them or engage them...but much less watch them. I do watch my kids through the observation windows at their school, on the playground, even in the living room or as they color, but...I decide now...it has not been for long enough. I need to watch them for longer than I would sit and watch a television sitcom or read a chapter of a book. Longer than it takes to do the dishes or play hide and seek grade four papers or catch up on my email.

I am suddenly struck by the fact that this is a decadent opportunity for growth, renewal and insight. It is an entire path in my life that I had not anticipated at all.

I can WATCH my children.

So last night as I stumbled up to bed, I took more than my habitual time to sit in their dark bedrooms until the nuances of their sleeping faces could burn into my retinas and sear my heart with that feeling of reckless affection so full that my whole body itches.

I have always loved this time: watching them sleep. But now I have a new subplot in the programming of my everday life.

Just watch.