After a day spent cooking and cleaning, we finally came to the end of Thanksgiving Eve. Except the kids just weren't quite ready to call it a day. They only fell asleep about 1 1/2 hours ago, or 10 p.m., almost 3 hours after we put them to bed!
At first, they were just talking, saying how excited they were about Thanksgiving and what they were looking forward to. Mama went up to refill water cups and reported back that they had crawled into bed together, a first, that we know of, for them. Sis was snuggled up next to Bud as they talked and planned. I couldn't resist seeing this for myself so I went up a few minutes later, pretending that I thought I'd heard them call me. And they said how comfy they were and invited me to stay and join them! Seeing them there curled up face to face warmed my mommy heart.
At some point, though, they actually got out of bed and started playing Thanksgiving, going so far as to turn up the overhead light. We could hear them moving around and then there was a call for "Mommy!" So I went up. Except, apparently, it was a baby penguin calling for his mommy, not me (I think Mama thought this was poetic justice for my earlier ruse). I encouraged them to get back in bed, at least, and just talk. But Sis informed me that she was staying up until Thanksgiving. And Bud, who said he wasn't tired, was "just too excited about strawberry jello!"
I went back downstairs. There is no point fighting that, really. What am I going to do--threaten them? hold them down in bed? take them out of bed to put in timeout? cause a scene and make everyone upset? I can't make a child sleep. Our theory on bedtime is that we put them to bed, creating an atmosphere conducive to sleep through stories, songs, "happy thoughts," hugs, and kisses, and then let them fall asleep--if they talk or sing for awhile, fine. Only if one is intentionally keeping or waking up the other do we intervene. Otherwise, we let it go. And it has always worked; they find a way to go to sleep when they are ready. And it takes the burden of their sleeping off us (which we had enough of when they were infants; though, truth be told, they were always good sleepers at night).
Even tonight, at some point, Bud said they should go to bed but Sis's shrill "what?!" ended that idea. Mama went up a bit later and Sis asked if the clock was broken--hadn't she managed to stay up until morning even though the clock still showed blue meaning nighttime (we love our tot clock that changes colors based on our settings--it ended the "is it morning yet?" queries at 4 a.m. from Bud)? It was taking to long, she said.
Mama and I marveled at their sheer holiday joy. I mean, who gets that worked up about Thanksgiving? They talked about the food they'd made, what they wanted to help with in the morning, what they were going to eat at lunch, and reenacted all of it with their critters. I don't remember being that ecstatic about Thanksgiving--Christmas and Easter, absolutely, but not Thanksgiving. Happy, sure; expectant, yes. Up three hours past my bedtime? Nope. But then, Mama and I realized, we both slept in our own rooms without siblings to heighten the excitement. We never experienced that kind of middle-of-the-night sibling bonding the way the kids were. And it made us so glad that they could share that, share a room, share the holiday, share a childhood, particularly because so often sharing so much can be a problem for twins (even if they learn how to do it very early on).
Finally, I ended up in their room for something--a potty run? more water?--and told them I'd tell them a story if they'd get in their beds and put their heads down. And I told them about Thanksgiving with my paternal grandparents, "over the river and through the woods." It wasn't so much a particular Thanksgiving memory but an amalgam of all our visits to their house, starting with the long drive from Houston to Dallas during which my little sister Banana and I would wiggle around the backseat (in the days before any child restraints) asking how long until we got there (with Dad exhorting us to look outside. We always did, at least once, to try to see the beaver dam, but were otherwise pretty bored with the never-changing view of I-45). Then, as we drove into Dallas, we'd see the iconic red Pegasus horse glowing on the skyscraper in the night sky, followed by our eventual arrival at my grandparents' house in the woods in Denton late at night after a final chorus of "to grandmother's house we go." I remember coyotes howling (and Pop frighteningly pretending to be a coyote), the redbrick floor that left stains on feet and socks, Grandad's coffee milk in china cups with demitasse spoons delivered to us in bed in the morning, presents from Grandma on her cedar chest, trips to their garden to pick vegetables, Charlotte Russe in red glass goblets chilling in the fridge, Grandad's cooked apples with cream, playing in the front of the house, helping with the cooking from snapping beans on the front porch to licking the beater of the whipped cream, sitting at the huge dinner table to eat, watching Dallas Cowboys football or Lawrence Welk afterwards with gin and tonics for the adults and little cheese crackers as my grandparents sat in their chairs next to the constantly burning fire.
The kids began to settle down. "I want to go to your grandma's garden," Bud said. "Is your grandma alive?" Sis asked. No, not for a long time now, but the memories are. And I started to sing. First, "Over the River" and then all the songs I always sing for them, like "Water is Wide," "Cotton Fields Back Home," "Summertime," and "Can't Help Loving that Man" (I often don't remember words to more traditional lullabies and didn't want to disrupt the increasingly sleepy mood with fumbled lyrics). By the second round of my repertoire, Bud was asleep but Sis was doing her damnedest to stay awake, from kicking the wall to taking off her socks. Soon however, even she rolled over with Shirt close by for a good sniff.
So, if this is Thanksgiving, what is Christmas going to be like?
But for now, it gives me something very concrete to be thankful for: there is no sound coming from the monitor.
Happy Thanksgiving Eve, everyone! (I'll be back tomorrow not-quite-live-blogging Thanksgiving.)
