Our family Christmas is this weekend instead of next.  Jeff and Joe arrive today and we have a packed weekend ahead.  A few thoughts before the wild ride begins.

The transfer of VHS movies of my children’s young years to DVD is almost complete.  I stopped taking a lot of movies around 1996, although there might be a few more rolling around on 8 MM VHS.  It has been quite the learning experience for me. 

The “wonder years” were not easy for me.  I was far away from my mother and sister, Al’s Mom and my Dad passed away when the boys were quite young.  We had no other family in the area, our closest relatives were in San Diego.  Along the way I had friends who would help out when I was overwhelmed, most notably Thais, who has my undying gratitude for being the example of how to let it all roll off your back.  She always said she wanted ten kids but that wasn’t flying with her other half!  She could have done it and made it look easy.  Except for Thais, friends are not family – they had kids of their own and grandmas nearby and generally could not relate to my situation. They would help when they could, but when I really needed someone to take over, I was out of luck.

I spent much of those years extremely tired and often crying.  The movies prove to me that it wasn’t always that way, and I am beginning to practice my Dad’s philosophy which was “I only remember the good times.”  However the movies also show me a glimpse of why it was so difficult for me.  The noise never stopped.  The action never stopped.  Unlike most girls who will occasionally actually sit down and color in a coloring book, that pasttime that I loved so much when I was a child NEVER occurred in my home, no matter how cool I thought the coloring books were or how many brand new packs of crayons I bought.  As far as I can tell Jeff whined during all of 1991 which occasional time outs to smile and laugh.  Joe loved to be the center of attention, and Andy could have melt downs if someone looked at him the wrong way. 

So I know I yelled alot.  I know I cried alot.  I went to frequent counseling, both personal and marraige, to make it through.  I always worried that my boys would never come home after they grew up because I was such a wreck half the time.  With Christmas nearing and a recent Thanksgiving behind us, I am assured me those fears were unfounded.   Not to mention they can sense if I’m getting nervous and the jokes come fast and furious until I could not possibly continue in that vein.

The movies also reveal an amazing truth.  There was one common denominator, one unflinching paragon of patience and humor, one steady and faithful emotional background upon which we all were projected throughout the wonder years.  It was the father of the boys, my husband of almost thirty years, Al Sondag.  Every movie finds him throwing crying babies over his shoulder – and then within seconds babies would be giggling.  Bathtimes  and subsequent pajama wrestling, which ultimately would have have me yelling and running to my room in tears, was handled with ease and a calm demeanor by Al.  Nothing phased him.  I gave up giving my children baths the first time a toddler boy put a foam bathtub letter “O” on his penis and thought it was hilarious.   I just finished watching a pillow fight between Al and Joe and Andy, aged 5 and 2, with baby Jeff looking on and laughing, that went on for half an hour!  I would have lasted about 5 minutes.  I just didn’t get it, ya know? 

Al did.  He got it all – the boundless energy of boys, the nonstop noise that exhausts me even watching the movies twenty years later , but most of all I think he understood much better than I ever did that it was all passing, and passing quickly.  He understood, perhaps because his Dad passed away when Al was five, how important his role was (and is) as a father.  A tantrum was met with the same even keel response as reading a bedtime book.  He didn’t need parenting books to teach him this.  It just came naturally.  I needed the books to remind me, and failed frequently.  A tantrum from a child was just as likely to elicit a tantrum from me. 

Watching these movies I have been given a second chance to love my little babies, without the fatigue and immaturity.  They are all coming home this weekend for an early Christmas since Jeff has to work on Christmas Day.  I am healed now, the doubts about the quality of my mothering washed away as I have relived it all – only the good times, true – and am ready to carry on as the mother of three grown men who will continue to bring me great joy, as they surely did then, and no one will be yelling – except maybe them at some point in the future!  My hope is that they will all have inherited their father’s innate sense of what’s important and what’s not in child-rearing, and that they will be as proud of their children when they grow up as I am of mine.  Of course, they might have a brood of foreign creatures called “girls,”  and then all bets could be off…

As I write this, a VHS is in the background being transferred and I hear this:

“Jingle Bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg, Batmobile lost a wheel and Joker took ballet – hey!”