I went to Canada a couple of weeks ago and the trip required two layovers and quite a bit of time in the airport. Fun fact about me is I almost always get sick after I travel. This trip was no different. I arrived home on a Monday and was coughing by Tuesday afternoon. By Wednesday I felt like hot shit. It’s rare that I get sick thank God because parenting while sick is the absolute worst.
This time was no different. I explained to the boys that I didn’t feel well… they had pity on me for a while and then morphed back into an 8 year old and a 4 year old. Totally not their fault… they could only be who they were. The boys basically lived on whatever they could grab in the pantry (I know I know… awful) and we made it through.
Until bedtime on Thursday… that was when my hot shit meter was at an all time high. We have a routine at bedtime. They say their prayers (short now I lay me prayer), I say mine (long ones that cover all the basis), then I read them a story, and sing them a song, hugs and kisses and then FINALLY lights out. I’m not sure how the bedtime routine grew to be such a production. But… alas… it did. That night I told them I was just too exhausted to read and BJ asked for the song. This is a song I’ve sang since he was around 1… I stopped when Byron died…and picked it back up about 6 months ago on a whim. The light that appeared in his eyes when I began singing it made my heart melt. He remembered it… and ever since that day I’ve sang it. On this particular night I told the boys I wouldn’t be able to sing to them either. I’d make it up to them another night with two songs… That was when BJ looked at me and said “well we can sing it to you then”.
So there I was sitting on the floor next to the bed and my boys sang my song to me. My heart was so full I wanted to cry. My babies were looking at me and giving that song everything they had. They tried to hit the high notes… they paused where I typically paused for emphasis… and they didn’t miss a word or a beat. I’m not sure why it was such a pivotal moment for me. But it felt like a part of the love I give them when I tuck them in was returned. They were giving back a piece of what I hope they feel when I sing to them. I will never forget that moment. I’ll never forget the sound of their squeaky little voices and how focused they were on singing “mommies and daddies.” (The real title is ‘Who could imagine a King.’) It was one of those moments that made me feel like I was doing something right… and that we were exactly where we were supposed to be in that very moment…
‘Who Could Imagine a King’
Mommies and daddies always believe
That their little angels are special indeed
And you could grow up to be anything
But who would imagine a king
A shepherd or teacher is what you could be
Or maybe a fisherman out on the sea
Or maybe a carpenter building things
But who would imagine a king
It was so clear when the wise men arrived
And the angels were singing your name
That the world would be different ’cause you were alive
That’s what heaven stood still to proclaim
One day an angel said quietly
That soon he would bring something special to me
And of all those wonderful gifts he could bring
Who would imagine, who could imagine
Who would imagine a king