Goodnight Noises Everywhere

On Thursday night I am driving home from work when I turn onto a dark road. The road after that one is dark as well and I see the source of the blackout is a tree that hit a telephone pole. Just down the road is the town line and the streets behind it are lit up again. I conclude that it is a windy night, judging from a neighbor’s small tree blown over in their front yard.

Upon my arrival home I recount my tale of fallen trees to Bob, who in turn informs me that our tree in the back yard is now leaning up against the house. It’s a very windy night indeed. There are a few branches in the front yard that I offer to pick up while Matt naps the next day, and before we drift off into sleep we joke that I will also pick up the tree in the backyard.

Crack! Ten minutes later we are peering out Matthew’s bedroom window into the front lawn. A larger branch has fallen from the tree. This worries Bob more than me. He thinks we should evacuate to the basement, whereas I think the worse is already over. We return to bed or in Bob’s case pacing in a worried way and looking out the windows.

“The power just went out!” Bob awakes me at some hour later.

Crack! Crack! Crack! At three thirty in the morning Bob and I stare into the darkness listening to trees snap and fall in the woods behind our house.

“What is happening out there?” I ask him.

“I don’t know,” he replies. The trees around our house have already fallen so there is no longer a need to talk about whether or not we should relocate to the basement.

At seven in the morning I am awaken by Matthew cheerfully babbling and trying to climb onto the bed. “Did you hear all the trees fall down in the middle of the night?” I ask scooping him up and carrying him towards the kitchen to make him some breakfast.

Bob is in the kitchen and on the phone. “You aren’t going to work today are you?” I ask him, “I bet the roads are icy.” I glance outside and get my answer right away.

All over the street and in the yards are fallen icy limbs from trees. The ones that stayed upright are weighed towards the ground with frozen water. The power line is down at the end of the street and there is a tree sticking out of a neighbor’s rooftop. Bob and I take turns staying inside with Matthew and walking around to survey the neighborhood and commiserate with neighbors. Outside looks as though the Once-ler came to town.

At night, still without electricity or heat, which will be days not hours before it is turned on again, we camp out in the basement room, the only room with heat thanks to the propane fireplace that was installed just one month ago. Feeling cozy, I read to Matthew his newest bedtime favorite, the classic Goodnight Moon by battery powered lantern light before tucking him for the night into his pack n play. He does not like this new sleeping arrangement and begins to wail, making it not so cozy anymore.

“If I had to choose anyone to be in a dark room with a screeching one-year-old after an ice storm it would still be you,” I tell Bob who is lying on the floor with our bed comforter wrapped around him like a sleeping bag.

“What?” he can’t hear me over Matthew.

So I tell him again but louder.

Santa & Sundaes

There is this game we play. Matthew hands me a cotton purple soda bottle from his picnic set and I slug exaggerated gulps from it. Then I realize it is actually poisoned and promptly pass out, resulting in belly laughs.  When I “come to” Matt hands me the drink again and seconds later I’m sprawled back out on his floor.

There is a saying that having a kid is the same as agreeing to be a kid again. While Bob vacuums and dusts to prepare for our Christmas Eve party in two weeks, Matt and I busy ourselves making a fort with blankets, chairs, and pillows, in the living room. I read him Dr. Seuss’s Mr. Brown Can Moo, Can You? in our tent, both of us making hand motions to the “sound” of lightning.

Just last weekend we visited an old friend’s house to make cookies. It’s a house where I have many fond memories at and very place my baby shower was held but with a one-year-old in tow it transformed into a house of doom. Open stairwells, scissors and knitting needles menacingly poking out the tops of baskets and tote bags, glass casing around a stereo, and a piano were some of the dangers I noticed while looking around. While the rest of us made cookies Matthew roamed about wearing adult sized crocs he had thieved from somewhere, and carrying a jar of sprinkles. I nearly had a heart attack when I saw him clomping towards me carrying a china teapot. Once the task of cookie decoration/feasting began to feel a little redundant, the three adults and Matthew sat down to watch Elmo’s Christmas Countdown, perhaps the start of what may become a new holiday tradition in years to come.

On the subject of traditions, we put up our tree. Then of course there was the visit to Santa. Matthew and Santa’s meeting was successful if not met by little resistance on Matthew’s part. Afterwards we enjoyed our sundae topped with the works in a room lit by Christmas trees.

The New And Old Us

At about this time last year Bob and I signed all the necessary papers to our new home. We had chosen the-house-with-the-big-kitchen-but-only-two-bedrooms-upstairs, which was a twenty minute drive west of our apartment. Christmas was coming, so in between thoughts of ‘this wall will have to painted, I want to put shelves on that wall, those floral couches are being donated to Salvation Army, our bed will be on the opposite side to face the windows, does it smell in here?’ we were responsible for introducing Matthew, seven months at the time, to the magical holiday season upon us.

It was a shame that he hated our new house with a vengeance. It might have the many bowls of vinegar left out to absorb the hindering mix of dog and cigarette smoke smell from the previous owners. Or that he had just leaned to crawl but was confined to the pack ‘n play while his parents disinfected, steam cleaned, and scrubbed every room. Or perhaps he didn’t feel at home yet with his toys and books stored in cardboard boxes.

I didn’t feel at home right away either. Our apartment furniture, a plaid hand me down sofa set, a table missing a chair, and mismatched bedroom furniture from Bob and my childhoods, made our apartment look cozy and fun. In the house it looked mismatched like the Land of Lost Toys. I also knew the mark of the New Year meant I would have to begin job searching and I was rather comfortable in my routine of mommy & me classes, playgroup on Wednesdays, and lunch dates.

Before we knew it we had unpacked and were receiving all of our mail at our new address. Our Christmas tree had been put up and I learned how to work our new fangled oven with buttons instead of knobs. Matthew had his first official Christmas morning, opening presents and knocking ornaments off the tree, in the only home he would refer to one day as his childhood home. Over the winter the white walls of his bedroom were painted blue and the dated brass ceiling fan was replaced with a baseball one. His toys and books were emptied into white wicker baskets with blue gingham lining. It was our first room makeover and certainly not our last.

Over the course of the year, more rooms were repainted and I was able to find a job with flexible enough hours to keep up my motherhood activities. We purchased new dining and living room furniture, which I sometimes look at it and laugh at how grownup it looks.  Bob and my bedroom furniture is still mismatched but with a new bedspread to compliment the cherry chocolate paint on the wall, it’s a dedication to the old and new us.

This year with Christmas once again around the corner and now that we are settled into our home it is just that, our home. Once again we are introducing Matthew to the magical season upon us, but I have a feeling a lot more ornaments will be knocked off of the tree this year.