Radio silence and thoughts on migration

I've been quiet over here. Really quiet.

It's not for lack of thoughts and things to write, or even lack of time. It's more about a swirling eddy of thoughts and ideas tangled like marionette strings tossed into an old trunk. And a slight lack of time, of course. That's just a given, considering I never get on the computer when my husband's at home, and he's had some nice holidays from work recently.

The real world news has depressed me to the point that I hesitate to turn on the news or read the paper online. From Arnold's betrayal to Anthony Weiner's idiocy to the heartbreaking trial concerning Caylee Anthony's death, my heart aches over the pain that has been caused for families, especially since all of these events involve innocent children (the New York Times just reported that Rep. Weiner's strikingly beautiful wife is pregnant). I'm certainly not immune to sin (don't we all wish we were, though?), but the layers-upon-layers of lies that each of these represents just astound me-- and certainly remind me how our actions in life have reverberations that can damage and destroy the lives of others when we act on our selfish desires and aim for self-preservation and self-promotion at all costs.

Sigh. Moving on...

I've always thought it amazing that so many animals know exactly when to migrate, and where to migrate, and where to find safe havens along the way. Each year, Texas-- particularly my own town in the Hill Country-- is awash with Monarch butterflies in both the spring and fall. The hummingbirds have been hanging around for a month or so now. I'm not surprised at all now though, because I've witnessed a nightly migration in my own home.

Sometime back in April or May, we moved the kids from separate bedrooms into one room- C's room. C has slept in a twin bed since she was around 2 or 2 1/2-- it was around the time she was potty trained. H is still in a crib, so I just moved that into C's room.

Sidenote: This was the fourth time that I have taken down and then set up a crib entirely on my own. I always tend to do major projects when M is at work or out of town. I get this crazed instinct to rearrange everything when he's not around to calm me down. Yes, I am woman... hear me roar.

The room-formerly-known-as-H's-room (which was formerly known as the guest room/office) is now known as the guest room/playroom. I got kind of crazy (see sidenote) when M was out of town a few moths ago and started grabbing all of the kid-items (which had burst out of C's room in a desperate attempt for freedom in the living room... and kitchen... and the master bedroom... and the master bathroom) and tossing them into H's room. I liked the way things looked so much that I went ahead with rearranging major furniture so that the kids could room together and the toys could safely be corralled in The Playroom. Yes, I think of it in capital letters now.

Anyway, back to the migration story.

Nearly every single night, at sometime between 1 am and 3 am, C leaves her bed (in pitch blackness), treks down the hallway, through the living room, into our room, around the bed, and climbs in next to me. Half of the time I have no idea she's even getting in bed with us anymore, and the other half of the time I'm only semi-conscious of the fact. With the kids sleeping in the same room, I'm hesitant to put her back in bed (if I actually notice she's climbed in with us) because I don't want her to wake H. It's always interesting to wake up and see what gifts she has dragged along with her sleepy self-- her puppy blanket(s), random stuffed animals, a book or two, costume jewelry, games. We never quite know what she'll decide needs to move into our room with her as part of the relocation package.

So what do we do? Keep allowing the migration to occur? Will it stop by the time H is old enough to migrate as well? Put her back in her bed (or The Playroom) if we notice she's arrived with her entourage? Just relish the fact that she still adores us enough to want to be with us, and think back fondly on these times when she's 13 and thinks we're the meanest parents ever? Wear her out during the day to the point that she's physically unable to make the migration because she's so exhausted? Or just be glad that when she migrates she doesn't make Mexico or Canada her final destination?