I feel like we’ve entered a new stage of parenting, the one where the kids fight constantly and treat each other like crap much of the time. It’s a frustrating thing as a parent, because I want my kids to be friends, but I also realize this is just part of growing up. I remember so clearly just despising my younger brother and not wanting him anywhere near me. So, I mean, I get it. But damn, it hurts! When they are cruel to each other, I want to sit them down and shake them and remind them that they are the only two people in the whole world that will ever understand growing up in our weird little family. I want them to have each others backs and know that they are each others teammate. I want them to think twice before saying “I hate you!”

They will learn, I know that. And there are moments when I realize the lessons I’m trying to teach are getting through somehow. Lately it’s right before bed. That’s the one time of day it seems like they realize they are stronger as a unit. My calls of “5 minutes until lights out” are met with giggles from homemade tents. Lucy offers to read Tate a book and he shows her how he can dive off his bed into his blanket fort. Snuggles and laughter and silliness permeate the house, until I have to get stern and demand that everyone get into bed. It’s me against them, in this bedtime battle, but at least they are together. And that’s how it’s supposed to be. Them against the world.

Before bed they usually ask for a song, and it’s almost always “Moon River.”

Two drifters, off to the see world. There’s such a lot of world to see…

“That’s us!” Lucy says to her little brother.







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