Many times a year, there are family gatherings that we either host or attend. Inevitably at these events, there are people with new and old children around. The old children are kids we used to pick up that now work at Wonderland; kids whose cheeks you used to pinch that you now wonder if that clothing item is appropriate for their age. And, as will always be in a large family, there are the really young children and/or babies.
As anyone in our circle will tell you, we are the most favourite aunt and uncle and I am the best Godfather. I treat my two Godchildren like my own kids and they know that I feel that way about them. As such, I command a certain level of respect from them, which they give easily. In return, I give easily the attention and care that they command of me. My Goddaughter, in pond land, is turning Sweet Sixteen in November; we are all terrified at the thought. She is a very good kid and there are no worries about her path in life, but life is different than when we were sixteen so we have extra concern. My Godson turned thirteen last month and his mother is having a bit of a time adjusting to the fact that she now is the mother of a teenager in the house. She is calling on me to be more involved in his life. It is not that his father is not there (he is, and he is great with them all), it is just that as a Roman Catholic, we really take the honour of our position as Godparents very seriously. God forbid that something happens to the parents, but we have to be in the children's lives so the transition would not be a second traumatic event in their lives. Anyhow, enough of that as nothing is happening to their parents.
Our various little nieces, nephews and cousins absolutely adore us because we are the ones who will crawl on the ground with them, let them crawl all over us like a jungle gym, listen to their umpteenth call for attention and (I'm sure it is not the top of the list) we give the best presents. While we try not to go over the top, we tend to be generous in the gift giving and can be counted on either for the gift the child loves or the parents hate (i.e. that noisy, battery-operated, lighted thing that drives them nutso).
Sorry, back to the babies topic. Naturally, my dear wife will gravitate to new or young life like a moth to a flame' that is not a criticism, merely an observation. This weekend, while the little lad from Ottawa lay on her and was falling asleep as he so often likes to do with "Auntie", she looks over to me and says, "I really want one." All I could feebly offer up was, "I know." There is simply nothing else I could say because I do know and it breaks my heart that one of the few things she has ever asked me for in our life together (eight years now) I cannot just give to her. I am hoping that come November, we can simply relax and try together one last time and, barring no results, move calmly but quickly to the next step and process. Nothing would mean more to me right now than to give her this gift. I have been blessed to experience it myself (though it does not feel like a blessing these days, long story about teenagers and divorce) and I want her to enjoy those same feelings.
We are two months away from various decisions to be made. Regardless though, the end result and goal stays the same: a new Trini in the house.