I went from Oslo hanging out with two quintessential bachelors to Cologne where I spent a week with the closest thing to a perfect family I have ever had the fortune to experience. Achim and I met several years ago when I went to a business conference with my mother in Cologne. We hit it off immediately talking about quantum mechanics and other topics that generally send people running in the opposite direction. We exchanged emails over the next few months and when I returned to Europe at the end of the year I jumped at the chance to visit him and his family. At the time it was a family of four. Achim, his lovely wife Katerina, Constantine, and Felicia. They had me over to the house for a beautiful breakfast – my first experience with the whole German-egg-in-a-cup thing – and to meet the kids. Oh what fun we had! The dining room had wood floors and we played ‘bus’. I lay on my back, Constantine and Felicia sat straddled on my stomach and I scooted on my back along the floor pushing with my feet hither and thither with wild circles and near crashes. I was so touched by my time with them I sent a little car for Felicia and an “English” computer for Constantine – toys that are still on the popular list it seems with what are now not two but four beautiful children, with little two year old Antonietta and six month old Ferdinand. (As of this belated posting, they have become a happy family of seven!)
The language barrier was more frustrating for Constantine, now 7, though by the end he had discovered the joy of being able to teach an adult something. He would put on a stern teacher voice, fix me intently in the eye, and say "Eins?" With a raised eyebrow that indicated I was supposed to continue with the rest of the numbers he had taught me in German. Felicia and I had an unspoken bond, sharing an occasional glance across the room, or a quick explanation of something she was doing, when the others, in the midst of whomever was demanding attention at that moment. Antonietta is fire and chocolate, she can melt your heart when she pours sweet and can burn just as hot in a tantrum. But oh those big blue eyes when they look at you, you can’t help but forgive every transgression. Ferdinand is always content, especially in a lap or with a sibling nearby.
I watched Katherina negotiate around the inevitable cacophony of four children as she prepared breakfast, lunch, and dinner, took them to and from the two different schools that only last four hours a day, did the shopping, straightened up, worked part time, taking care of broken dishwashers and pipes and her husband with the grace of the prima of prima ballerinas. All this without sleep for she is breast feeding and Ferdinand still does not sleep through the nights. I have never been so amazed at a woman’s capacity. I was there for one week. Seven days. Never once was there a television on in that house. Not once. No computer games. No Nintendo. There was a tape player in the game room and once in awhile Constantine or Felicia would play a story as they were coloring or playing with blocks. The rest of the time they were outside playing in the enclosed yard or otherwise engaged with each other, with me, with toys, or with books. They were not smothered or pampered and most amazingly they were not expected to be “good”. They were expected to be children. Emotions rose and fell as one or the other threw a fit, moving through the tantrum until all was okay again. They were never told not to feel what they felt. Their feelings were always acknowledged, reality explained, and they were given time to adjust accordingly. I’ve come to believe there is nothing more important nor less done by parents than to simply let their children be who they are. To see them, reflect them, acknowledge them rather than always striving to mold them, teach them, build them. A child who is seen, creates a core that will guide him from inside all his life. A child who is molded will have to look forever to the outside for direction leaving a constant sense of gnawing emptiness at the core. Most of us were molded. Most of us mold our children.
The time warp I experienced throughout Norway was obliterated in the daily rituals of house and home. Breakfast, school, errands, lunch, playtime, dinner, playtime, bath time, bed time. Oh how I loved bathtime. The three oldest would all splash and play in the tub while I rolled up my jeans and let them wash my feet. I got to brush little teeth and dry naked little bodies and give piggy back rides to bed. They all went to sleep with nary a whimper. In the midst of chaos, Katherina kept a consistent schedule. They knew what was coming and when and gave little argument to any of it. Tears were always over injustices – broken toys, invading siblings, lost balloons.
The week passed by in an instant. Before I knew it, it was time to go. The kids all piled in the car in their pajamas to drive me to the evening train. With tight hugs and kisses and promises to send cards and practice their English and my German, we said our goodbyes. It was the life I always wanted but never figured out how to create. At least I touched it for a moment and am warmed by the thought that for some it exists. For all the challenge, and raising a family is a challenged life no doubt, there is no feeling in the world more precious than little arms filled with love squeezing your neck. Remember your blessings. Some of us would give anything to have them.
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